Love, & Its Effects On The Nature Of Man & Beast
by PeroxidePest NocturneWytche
Summary: Sequel to IMITOR VITA PRO AMOR!! Drusilla creates a foe almost as formidable as Spike himself. What does he want? A Slayer.
1. Schoolwork

Title: Love, And Its Effects On The Nature of Man and Beast   
Author/s: Celeste and Debbie (Peroxide Pest and Nocturne Wytche)  
Rating: PG-R  
Disclaimer: Not ours, we're just borrowing for the sake of borrowing. Joss can blame our muses…  
Feedback: (yes!) keviesprincess@netscape.net (Celeste) and/or celtskye@aol.com (Debbie)  
Genre: Action/Romance  
Pairing: S/B, X/A, W/T  
Summary: Drusilla creates a foe almost as formidable as Spike himself. What does he want? A Slayer.   
Notes: Sequel to Imitor Vita Pro Amor. But wait, it's not bad! We hope. Er…we'll see, I suppose.   
  
**In order to fully understand this fic, you may want to go back and read its prequel, Imitor Vita Pro Amor. It explains why there's so much fluff in the beggining of LAIEOTNOMAB, since fluff was zero to nill in Imitor, we wanted to please our readers with a lil OD on sap, which never hurt anyone. Fear not, trouble looms and a real plot is somewhere in this story come chapter 5 LOL :) Thanks!**  
  
**Chapter One: Schoolwork  
**   
  
"What rhymes with surmise?" Buffy asked conversationally, pausing from writing in her notepad as she sat atop a gravestone. She chewed on the eraser of her pencil thoughtfully.   
  
Spike grunted and ducked a punch from the vampire he was fighting, not three feet away from where the Slayer sat. "Surmise?" He stopped mid lunge to think about it, giving his newly risen opponent time to regain his equilibrium and gear up for another attack. "Your thighs," He finally stated, grinning at her devilishly in the moonlight. He grabbed the fledgling's arm and snapped the bone halfway between the wrist and the elbow when it tried to take another swipe at him. The vamp howled in protest.   
  
Buffy rolled her eyes at his comment. It figured that would be the first thing that came to mind. "Pig," she insulted, though there was no real malice behind it.   
  
"How about, French fries?"   
  
"I'm not hungry."   
  
"No you bint, in rhymes."   
  
"Who the hell uses French fries in poetry?" she shot back.   
  
"Well you could have been more specific, pet," he shrugged, kicking the vamp on the side of the head, causing it to whirl backwards into the ground.   
  
"Like you didn't know I have that assignment to turn in on Monday. You're the reason I haven't had time to do it until now. So stop playing around and help me out."   
  
"Flies?"   
  
"Doesn't fit the mood of the poem."   
  
He snapped the fledgling's spine with his hands and grinned at the crack. "Cries," he suggested helpfully, hearing the whimpers of the broken vampire lying at his feet.   
  
"Would you hurry up and make with the vacuum dust so we can move on? I really need to finish this poem."   
  
"What kind of stupid major grade is poetry anyway? I mean it's not like they can bloody well grade it objectively. They either get it or they don't. Or they like it or they don't. It's not quite fair to grade it on their own personal rubric if you ask me," Spike mused, crushing the fingers of his victim beneath his boot as he patted his duster, looking for his stake. He didn't feel it. "Er, seems I'm a bit short tonight pet, must have lost it in the scuffle." He smiled charmingly at her. "Can I borrow?"   
  
She sighed and pulled a stake from the waistband of her pants, tossing it at him before crossing out the last line of her blasted poem. He caught it and grinned his thanks, jumping off the vamp's back and staking it neatly. It exploded underneath him, and he swiped a bit of dust from the front of his jacket, the smile never leaving his face. "Dies."   
  
"That's great!" she responded. "It rhymes and it fits." The Slayer paused. "Gee, you'd think I'd have been able to come up with that on my own."   
  
"Yeah, you'd think," Spike teased back. She didn't take offense to the remark and simply jotted down a note to herself on the side of her paper, which said to come up with a line with the right amount of syllables, ending with the word 'dies'. "So, now what?" he asked, still worked up from his little tussle. If it could be considered that, even. He needed something else to kill.   
  
"Well, we could do a sweep by the Bronze, and then head to the Magic Shop."   
  
"Sounds like a plan. Been weeks since I've had a decent plate of hot wings, a beer, and a dance with my best girl." He offered his hand to her, which she took without hesitation.   
  
After helping her off of the tombstone and giving him a quick peck on the lips, she took one last perusal of her night's poetry homework and shut the yellow notepad to take a break from the assignment. Spike motioned her ahead of him, overdoing the gallantry in the action, as was his custom. She shook her head at him but still smiled, accepting his offer and striding out before him. He was at her side shortly after, and they walked together in silence. It was a comfortable silence; something that had come naturally for both vampire and slayer as things progressed from the three stages of sworn enemies, friends, and lovers.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Dawn Summers danced wildly to the music in the club, smiling and giggling over the fact that it was Friday and school was gone for the weekend. She looked over at Tara and grinned.   
  
Tara smiled back at the young teen, enjoying the craziness herself.   
  
Willow, Anya and Xander were also dancing like maniacs amongst the crowd, relaxed after a particularly good three weeks of non-apocalyptic action and bent on having a good time while it lasted. Because everyone knew that the good times in Sunnydale never really lasted.   
  
Dawn's eyes traced the club and her smile brightened upon seeing Spike and Buffy finally joining them after patrol and slayage. She waved in their direction and they waved back at her, both with looks of relief on their faces seeing the girl safe and having fun. Lots of fun. To make up for her almost getting the life sucked out of her and stuff.  
  
For the first time in about two weeks, things were peaceful in Sunnydale. As peaceful as a hellmouth could possibly get, in any case. Dawn felt like a normal teenage girl, too. Well, as normal as a girl whose sister slew vampires and dated one could be. Not to mention her own occasional power headaches from the mystical energy that made her...well her.   
  
She pushed aside bad thoughts, smiling at the thought of Spike. The platinum blonde vamp that adored her was no more than fifty feet from away from her. He never let his Lil Bit (as he preferred to call her) out of his sight when he could help it. He was for all means and purposes, her surrogate father. Except he was way cooler. And cuter.   
  
Especially now that he was dating Buffy. Well, seeing her. Okay, kissing her at the least.   
  
The two had been caught smooching at this very spot about two weeks ago, the day after saving Dawn's life, and she couldn't have been happier for the two. Things were progressing slowly between them. At least in front of her, and the Scoobies. She was quite sure there was major kissage while they patrolled at night. She was also pretty sure Giles knew nothing of it. Yet. From the looks of it now the two were keeping it quiet, breaking everyone into the idea slowly.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Not far from the dance floor, sitting at a table was the aforementioned couple, eyes darting from each other to the precious little girl on the floor dancing with her friends.   
  
A waitress came by, dropping a beer and Buffalo wings near Spike and a coke near Buffy. "Anything else I can get you two?"   
  
"No thanks," Buffy smiled shortly.   
  
The waitress eyed Spike admiringly. "No problem..." she responded with a sickeningly sweet, slightly suggestive tone.   
  
Buffy's smile turned into a look of annoyance. She'd hadn't been with Spike long enough to have had this kind of experience with him yet. But instantly, she did know that she wanted to smack the waitress around 'til the skank couldn't see straight. Her smile straightened into a line. "Be careful, he bites," she warned the other woman.   
  
The waitress jumped, her gaze on Spike broken. "Huh... oh..." she blushed, scurrying off.   
  
Spike turned his head to the slayer with a bright, cocky smile and raised brows. He whistled. "Pet, are your eyes turning green?"   
  
Buffy gave him a get-real look, though she felt her skin burn hot with the truth of the matter. "Of course not."   
  
Spike chuckled, feeling truly warmed by her envy. It was just so damned cute. "Don't worry, luv..."   
  
"Worried? Who's worried?" Buffy fidgeted with her straw.   
  
Spike never felt so good in his whole life. He shook his head, watching her with pure affection. "Maybe you should write a poem about green eyes, luv."   
  
"Oh, would you stop? I'm not jealous," she huffed stubbornly.   
  
"Oh?" Spike cocked his head to the side. "What if I tell you she's lookin' at me right now?" he asked smoothly. He always had enjoyed baiting his girl. This would be fun. In the end she'd enjoy the outcome, anyway.   
  
Buffy nearly choked at his suggestion as she sipped her soda. Her eyes turned to the bar, looking for the waitress. Sure enough, the little twit was staring at her man from across the club. "Wait'll she gets a load of your other face." Buffy snorted, trying to make light of the pang she got in her chest at the thought of any other woman touching him. She went back to her soda.   
  
Spike knew it was all in good fun so he leaned over, his hands slipping across her shoulder to the nape of her neck. "Hmm...think she can handle the wrinklies?" he morphed into his game face, nose to nose with the Slayer.   
  
Buffy turned to him and shrugged nonchalantly starring at his game face. "It's actually an improvement."   
  
Spike shook off his visage with a deep laugh. He nipped at her neck playfully with blunt teeth. "What say we really give her something to look at?" he implied wickedly, his voice hoarse with suggestion. He rubbed his cool nose along her jugular and let out a tiny purr, just to push her over the edge.   
  
He'd finally learn to control the annoying noise shortly after they'd begun the major kissing sessions, and he loved teasing her. He could always feel her heart rate increase and lil goose bumps pop up on her arms when he purred. So anything that could get that sort of reaction from her was good, in his book.   
  
She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, feeling his lips buried into her neck, his hand brushing back her hair. "Spike…honey… the others? "   
  
He brushed his lips up to ear lobe, teasing it with little nips of his teeth. "Come off it, luv. They know..."   
  
"But…comfortable... with... it... yet?" she was sinking and giving in to his whims rapidly.   
  
"Hmm, but you smell sooo good pet..." he licked her neck. "Taste good too."   
  
Buffy's heart hammered so loudly, even she heard it. She gasped delightedly at the tingling trail his kisses left behind, enjoying his ministrations far too much for the public eye. She pulled away a bit and gripped his face. "You're a very wicked man..." she groaned, diving into his lips.   
  
Spike's hands snaked into her hair and his smug smile disappeared as her lips went wild over his. In fact, he lost all thought except for the pleasure of kissing her. He deepened the kiss, losing all concept of where they were and what they were doing. All that existed was her. He groaned terribly loud and she gasped.   
  
"Spike!" she chuckled, turning red. She knew people were staring.   
  
"Sorry," he whispered, kissing her again.   
  
She opened her eyes to make sure his were shut tightly, and spied a look over at the bar.  
She felt an immense boost of womanly self-satisfaction at the look of envious horror on the waitress's face. *Hmph so there... bitch,* she thought to herself, before turning back to Spike. Her eyes returned to him and she jumped a little, seeing him staring straight at her.   
  
"Hmm...luv...eyes may not be so green no more, but your face is quite flushed," he teased huskily, with a wink.   
  
She socked him in the jaw. "Monster."   
  
"Bitch," he spat back.   
  
Then they returned to each other's arms quickly, jumping into another heated kiss.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Xander groaned. "Ya know I like the guy and all, but have they ever heard the term 'get a room'?"   
  
"Oh, you mean to have sex?" Anya asked. "Why do they need one if we..."   
  
"Ahn..." Xander silenced her with a hand.   
  
Dawn smirked and giggled delightedly. "I think it's cute."   
  
"It's sweet," Tara agreed, leaning her head on Willow.   
  
"Well, at least its not the Poofter," Xander shrugged. "Still... takes a lil getting used to..."   
  
"Well…yeah… but still cute," Willow argued lamely, grinning with thoughts of happy Buffy.   
  
"He's good for her," Tara agreed, watching with a small, flitting grin.   
  
Dawn's eyes followed her sister, her face covered in what Spike called the "Cheshire smirk." "The smooches are nothing compared to the things I've seen and heard, Xander," she teased.   
  
"What?" Xander stopped dancing.   
  
"Relax, 'm kidding!" Dawn relished in the look of shock on Xander's face.   
  
"Okay, one thing at a time here! I'm about to go on overload. I still have nightmares of Spike and the Buffy-bot." Xander put a hand to his head. "Kissing and hugging...okay, holding hands, I can deal... but Dawnie, don't cross into the world of bondage and adult novelty toys yet... please..."   
  
"Gross much?" Dawn stuck her tongue out distastefully. "They fell asleep together on the couch, that's all. Major cuteness points."   
  
"And also major boyfriend points when he didn't wake up as the dust you push under the rug," Anya added.   
  
"Wonder when they'll tell Giles," Willow mentioned, eyes wide when Buffy socked Spike in the jaw and then kissed the spot she'd pounded when he growled.   
  
"Hopefully before he catches them in a groping contest, like we did two weeks ago," Xander teased.   
  
Dawn rolled her eyes. "And you say Anya's the sex-fiend."   
  
He turned to Dawn, he jaw dropping in abject horror. "I don't ever wanna hear that dirty word come outta your mouth again, young lady!" Xander shook his finger sternly at her, trying his best to look serious. It didn't work so well as he cracked a grin when Dawn gave him that famous, Summers's "piss-off" look.   
  
"Hey, Pigeon..." Spike snuck up behind Dawn, yanking on her long locks gently.   
  
Dawn spun and socked him in the chest with a big grin. "Spike..."   
  
Spike gasped with exaggeration, clutching his stomach. "Big sis been teaching you a thing or two?"   
  
"Yeah," Dawn chuckled.   
  
"No wonder it didn't hurt," he snorted, straightening.   
  
Buffy whacked him in the head.   
  
"Bloody hell!!" Spike growled.   
  
Buffy smirked with a teasing smile. "Sounded painful to me."   
  
"Speaking of pain, how went the slayage?" Willow asked.   
  
"Another slow night. Got some school work done while Spike did all the actual work." She clung to his arm in thanks.   
  
"Oh good," Willow smiled. "I'm so glad you're back in school."   
  
"Leaping for joy here too," Buffy joked. "Trying to get this stupid poem done for poetry..."   
  
"Well, why doesn't Spike help you? You used to be a poet weren't you?" Dawn asked.   
  
"Bollocks...Zip it, lil bint..." Spike placed a finger to her lips.   
  
"That's right...William...the bloody..." Buffy fought a giggle building... "Bloody awful poet," she said in a lame British accent.   
  
"Ah… right then laugh at the poor vampire. He has no feelings, rip him to shreds, that's right. Sod off," Spike huffed, yanking his arm free. He stormed to the back, towards the bar.   
  
"Whoops..." Dawn frowned. "Think we hurt his feelings."   
  
"Poor guy..." Tara pouted.   
  
Buffy frowned. "Forgot how sensitive he is about his William side..."   
  
"How did you know... never mind... it's like the whole bondage issue, so don't wanna know..." Xander pulled Anya away from the group as a ballad played in the club.   
  
Buffy shook off her confusion with Xander. "Better go make nice with the big bad vamp."   
  
"Tell him 'm sorry too," Dawn frowned deeper, feeling guilty.   
  
"C'mon Dawnie, lets go do the girl thing and get to the bathroom together," Tara wrapped her arm around her shoulder. "Fix the make-up and stuff."   
  
"Cool," Dawn smiled, looking back as she walked away.   
  
Buffy approached him with caution. He looked broody, leaning against the bar, waiting for a drink from the bartender. His back was turned to her, so she slipped up to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she placed a peace offering kiss on his neck. "Sorry, baby..." she whispered, sounding appropriately contrite.   
  
He didn't move in response, just snorted.   
  
"I didn't mean to embarrass you, Spike. I forgot how sensitive you are about your past as William..." she apologized, sincerely.   
  
"Sensitive?" he huffed. "I'm not sensitive, Slayer."   
  
"Oh right, Mr. Non-sensitive, Buffy I love you, I exist for you guy..." she drawled, tightening her hold on him, and doing a poor imitation of his voice. "I'm sorry, Spike. I really am."   
  
He melted a little, never able stay mad at her for long. "Well...damn it Slayer, William was a bloody wanker..."   
  
"No he wasn't, he's still a part of you." she disagreed. "I bet you're not as bad at the poetry as you said you were, either. Who helped me with the poem tonight, huh?"   
  
"Hell, all I did was find a word that rhymed with 'surmise' for you..." he responded, turning to the side so he could see her.   
  
"So?" She hugged him, tighter. "I bet you just weren't inspired enough. How 'bout I inspire you, huh? Betcha I'll have you spouting stanza after stanza with the right motivation," she teased, kissing his ear, his cheek, the side of his lips.  
  
He groaned. "That's not playing fair. I'm supposed to be mad at you, and you're supposed to grovel."  
  
"Who says I'm not groveling now?" she asked indignantly, lips still brushing the skin along the juncture of his jaw and throat.   
  
"Well for one thing, you haven't done that thing with your tongue and the…ahh…that's it…" he mumbled, feeling her switch to exactly what he was thinking. "Bloody hell, pet…" he breathed.   
  
"So, you forgive me?" she asked, biting the side of his neck playfully.  
  
"Maybe."  
  
Her eyes sparkled. His tone said that he'd forgiven her a while ago, but he just wanted an excuse for her to be nuzzle-Buffy. She could deal with that. "Maybe?" she repeated. She placed a series of soft kisses along his jaw. "How about now?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
She nibbled his earlobe. "Now?"  
  
"Getting closer."  
  
She turned his face towards her and kissed him soundly. "Now?"  
  
He seemed to contemplate it a second, and then sighed. "Only because you know my weaknesses," he proclaimed melodramatically, diving in to steal another quick kiss. Sure, he'd been annoyed when she'd made fun of his past in front of everyone, but seeing this girl, kissing him, touching him, wanting HIM, he just couldn't find the strength to be angry. It was too much of a miracle that she felt the desire to spend her time with the likes of him and he didn't want to waste potential moments fighting over stupid things like his all too mortal insecurities. Sighing, he pulled her into his lap and buried his face into her hair. "You dirty little temptress."  
  
"That's me. Buffy the temptress."  
  
He growled low in his throat. "Naughty."  
  
"Mmm hmmm," she sighed, loving the sounds he could make, and how each of them made her feel. That sound made her feel absolutely delicious. He further proved the point by nipping at her throat with his blunt teeth. She giggled and leaned into him. "So all is forgiven?"  
  
"Oh no. I punish you tonight. Lots," he warned, wickedly.   
  
"Promise?"  
  
"Swear it on Poofy's hair gel," he vowed, kissing the place he'd seconds ago bit. "Though I'm tempted to take you right here, Slayer. Taste bloody great," he murmured, breath cool against her skin.   
  
"Keep that up Blondie, and we'll be out of here suspiciously quick, and you KNOW Anya will have something to say about that."  
  
"Oh like they don't already know."  
  
"I think Xander's been trying not to think about it. Having it voiced might destroy his fragile façade," she responded, lightly.  
  
"However his reaction is, can't be as bad as the Watcher's."  
  
Buffy frowned a bit at that. "Yeah…think we should tell Giles soon?"  
  
Spike looked at her incredulously. "I thought we agreed to after a month."  
  
"That was only in case things weren't working out smoothly," she reminded him. "And they ARE working out, very well. REALLY well."  
  
He turned sly. "Oh really? How well?"  
  
She noticed the look on his face, and went on without missing a beat. "How well?" She tossed her hair in the most coquettish manner possible, looking temptingly innocent and thoughtful as she pondered the answer to his question. "Well enough that I can't keep my naughty hands off of you," she answered, diving in to capturing his lower lip in between hers.   
  
He pulled back to look at her, wicked gleam in his eye. "Yeah? That it, then?"  
  
"I can't stop thinking about you," she added, taking his hand and intertwining their fingers. "Can't imagine not being with you."  
  
"I'd say that's working out well," he responded, squeezing her hand tenderly. "So you want to tell him, then?"  
  
She placed his hand across her stomach and began to play idly with his fingers. "What do you think he'll say?"  
  
"He might go for the liquor cabinet again," Spike smirked.  
  
She swatted him gently. "That's not allaying my fears."   
  
"Sorry, pet. Naughty me, now."  
  
"You don't REALLY think he'd flip, do you?"  
  
"He might do that thing where he blinks a lot and then cleans his glasses…" Spike suggested.  
  
"You don't think he'll give me the, "Bad Buffy, Bad" lecture, do you?"   
  
"No… Rupert will probably just stake me," Spike responded. "No lecture."  
  
"He would not. Stake you."  
  
"I would, if some bloke were sniffin' round my daughter like that…" he responded honestly.  
  
"So I should warn Dawn about bringing home boys for you to meet?"  
  
He was oddly touched by her seemingly offhanded remark. That's what he was now, then? Dawn's father figure? He belatedly wondered if he should be worried that the male influence of his girl's adolescent life was a soulless vampire. Then he realized that he'd thought himself into some sort of paradox and evacuated the entire thing from his mind. "She's not bringing boys home until she's bloody well 30," he stated, air of authority about him over the matter.  
  
Buffy snickered. "Don't think Dawnie would agree with you on that one."  
  
"Well, I'm puttin' my foot down. I know what the nasty lil buggers think about when they meet a girl. I used to do it all the time myself, thinkin' 'bout you. Far as I'm concerned, they don't touch her with one grubby paw."  
  
"Putting your foot down?" she snorted. "All she'd have to do is give you those puppy eyes and you'd be a big puddle of Spike on the floor."  
  
He turned indignant. "Would not! I'm impervious. It's a vampire superpower."  
  
"Which you apparently missed out on. You know she's got you wrapped around her little finger."  
  
He pouted. "Does not."  
  
"How about last week?"  
  
"What do you mean last week?"  
  
"When you let her eat ice cream for breakfast."  
  
"Well, you were sleepin'… an' we were out of eggs. She told me Joyce let her do it every now and again."  
  
"Spike puddle," she murmured playfully in his ear.  
  
He couldn't help but agree with her after turning over the events of last week in his mind. "Okay, yeah. I'm a bloody Nancy boy," he sighed.  
  
"Which I love," she added, helpfully.  
  
"Well, at least I get THAT consolation prize…" he started.  
  
She slugged him in the shoulder lightly. "Consolation prize?"  
  
"Grand prize," he corrected. "Best bloody prize of all time. Can't help but feel like I ripped someone off when I got it sort of prize."  
  
She nodded and kissed him. "Better."   
  
He pulled her in for a deeper kiss with a little growl, which she found sexy in boundless ways. However, three seconds in and she pulled back abruptly, her senses tingling. He sighed and they shared a look. "Vampire," they muttered in unison, spinning in their seat to face the other direction.   
  
"Three guesses as to which one of our lucky Bronzers it is," Buffy wagered.  
  
"Only need one," he responded, nodding over towards the door, where a badly dressed scrawny boy vamp of a thing led an obviously drunk chitty outside. "That one SMELLS like he's bloody been dead for 5 or 6 years," he muttered, wrinkling his nose.  
  
"Lucky for me you discovered the finer points of undead hygiene," she drawled in response, getting up off his lap.   
  
Spike growled at the empty feeling he got whenever he was out of contact with her, annoyed at the vamp for ruining the moment. "I say we torture 'im."  
  
She took his hand and led him out the door. "Takes too long," she replied, as if she'd seriously considered his proposal. "And I want to get back to where we were as soon as possible."  
  
"Like the way you think," he rumbled seductively.  
  
"Spike, stop," she warned him. "I need to be strong kneed slayer to fight. No melty knees."  
  
He smirked, eyes sparking with life in the dull light of the club. He knew exactly what those sounds could do to her when used correctly. He cleared his throat to make his voice normal. "Right then. Melty knees later?"  
  
She nodded, smiling dreamily. "Later."  
  
"Right. Let's finish this quick…" he stated, reaching into his duster pocket. He sighed when he remembered that he no longer smoked, and came up, rather disappointingly, with a package of gum instead. He pulled one from the val-u pack (though he still wondered why 18 sticks constituted as a steal) and popped a stick into his mouth. Yeah, the big bad gum chewer he was. He sighed and followed Buffy down the alley until they rounded the corner, coming up, as usual, to the darkest, dankest area behind the club one could possibly find. And there was smelly vamp boy, doing what looked like necking to the untrained eye. Spike could smell the blood a mile away.   
  
"You want the first zinger?" Buffy asked, peering over at her prey.   
  
He shrugged. "Why not?" Spike grinned and cleared his throat. "Nothin' more disgustin' than a messy eater, you know."  
  
The vamp's head shot up, and sure enough, the front of his mouth and shirt were covered in blood. Spike made a face. Sires just weren't training their childer like they used to. He tsk tsked out loud. "In the presence of ladies, no doubt. Wipe your mouth, Messy."  
  
The vampire looked completely surprised. "What?"  
  
"You heard me. Respect your elders. Have a little dignity. Clean yourself up."   
  
The fledgling, surprised, but knowing enough about older, stronger vampires (and this one SMELLED strong) to listen to them. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket. "Erm…"  
  
Spike ignored him. "Right then. You want, or do you want me to take him?"  
  
Buffy looked thoughtful. "Well, you did all the slayage earlier. Why not let me have a go?"  
  
His eyebrows quirked. "New turn of phrase?"  
  
"I only start talking like the vampires I constantly hang out with," she drawled in her defense, pulling a stake from the back of her pocket. "Check the girl."  
  
Spike marveled how she could tease him and then go straight to all business Slayer in the same breath. He thought it was unbelievably sexy. Moving on her cue towards the girl, he pulled the still very confused vampire up from his dinner and pushed him towards Buffy. "Cha, fledgling, you're in a fight. Buck up and get started," he instructed, annoyed with the youth of his species.   
  
"Wha…what?"  
  
"That's the Slayer, Messy. She wants to kill you. I'd defend myself if I were you."  
  
The fledgling blinked. "Slayer?" he asked, voice shaking.  
  
Spike nodded.  
  
"But then…you're…why are you…"  
  
"Damn he's stupid," Buffy laughed. "I almost feel bad about having to stake him."  
  
"My name's Spike," Spike stated slowly. "Get it, now?"  
  
"Oh… you're the…the…traitor…" the vamp wobbled. "Sire said I was to stay away from you."  
  
"Well, good job, defying your sire already?" Spike quipped, checking the girl's pulse. He placed his hand over her bleeding wound. "Run," he instructed. "Or go inside. Get some help. You're bleedin' a lot. Thank Messy for bein' inconsiderate and rippin' through staid of puncturin' neatly."  
  
She got up, whimpered a bit, and ran off towards the street. Spike sighed and leaned against the brick wall, waiting for Buffy to finish.  
  
"I didn't… I should be here," Messy muttered, looking for a way out. Spike just raised his eyebrows in amusement.   
  
"Don't make 'em like they used to, eh gorgeous?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Makes my job easier," she returned, twirling her stake. The vampire took one last look between Buffy and Spike and tried to make a break for it down Spike's alley, into the shadows.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and stuck out his foot, tripping the vamp, sending it head first to meet the floor. There was a small splashing noise as it hit a puddle of who knew what on its trip down. "This is bloody ridiculous. Am I the only one that feels like the school yard bully?"   
  
"Nope," Buffy responded. "I feel kind of pathetic too. But hey, job's a job, right?"  
  
"Right then." Spike motioned towards the vamp, which was still crawling on all fours, trying to get away.  
  
Buffy sighed. "Tomorrow before patrol, you and I are SOOO going to spar. I need a decent fight. I'm going to be Buffy, the-out-of-practice-Slayer if the pickings are all like this."  
  
"It's a deal, pet."  
  
Buffy threw her stake. It embedded itself perfectly into the vamp's chest, penetrating him through the back. He dusted easily, making sort of a deflating sound as he did. The stake clattered to the floor.  
  
"He said Sire, you know."  
  
Buffy nodded. "I know."  
  
"Wonder who'd be stupid enough to sire someone like that."  
  
"Someone new at it, or someone completely off his rocker," Spike replied. "We'll find out."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So."  
  
"So."  
  
They stood in silence for a second, looking at each other from down the alleyway. There was mischief in Spike's eyes, and he indifferently took the wad of gum in his mouth and tossed it into a nearby dumpster. She regarded him casually; hand on the back of her neck. After another minute they broke out into grins and met halfway, each heading towards one another.   
  
It was a sort of game they played, see who broke down first and headed for the other. He wagered if it went to any longer than a minute he would swallow it and go to HER, but it usually ended up in a tie anyway. And meeting halfway was good for him. He kissed her thoroughly. "We're bloody immature, you'n I."  
  
She nodded and led him back into the Bronze, his arm draped across her abdomen as they walked together. "Yeah, we are."  
  
"Love you."  
  
"Love you too."   
  
He nuzzled her cheek. "Back inside, then?"  
  
"Mmm hmm."  
  
"Or would you rather…" his voice turned from sweet to seductive, and she felt the distinct rumblings of want reverberate in his chest. She instantly became what could be called the dreaded weak-kneed Slayer and leaned against him.   
  
He chuckled in her ear. "I love it when you do that, you know. Makes me feel all manly."  
  
"Yeah well…" she coughed. "It's a reflex. I have weak knees. And I thought weapons did that to you?"  
  
"Is that how we're playing, then?" he asked mischievously. He bit gently on the side of her throat.   
  
"That's not fair," she complained, though insincerely when his fingers found their way up the back of her shirt and began drawing soft circles there.   
  
"Fair?" he snorted. "You know I play to win, lover."  
  
That was true. She sighed and pulled back reluctantly. "We're going back inside now. Because if we stay out here, things will get kinky."  
  
"And that's bad?"  
  
She wrinkled her nose. "It is when you can smell Bronze dumpster."  
  
"Good point."  
  
  



	2. Hot Cocoa, Pajamas & A Tender Moment

**Chapter Two: Hot Cocoa, Pajamas & A Tender Moment**  
  
Hours later, Buffy yawned tiredly, slipping into her room quietly. Since it was a Friday night, she didn't have school the next day, nor did Dawn. The younger was asleep, getting some much needed rest.  
  
The Slayer slipped off her robe and climbed into bed. Sleep did sound good. She'd promised Dawn some sister time tomorrow, involving a trip to the mal, with shopping possibilities. And God knew that keeping up with her was harder than slaying sometimes, so she'd need all the sleep she could get.  
  
Getting comfortable, she flipped her night-light on and pulled out her journal. Her mind reflected on anything important from today's events; sans another wonderful day with Spike. She jotted down some notes about the vampire in the alley and the mention of a sire. She made a mental note to talk to Giles after shopping tomorrow.  
  
Letting out another yawn, turned off her lamp and settled down into her comforter, sighing as her head hit the pillow. She closed her eyes and prepared to drift off to sleep.  
  
Ten minutes later she groaned and tossed onto her side. She pounded on her pillow and adjusted her blankets, unable to get comfortable. She turned again on her back, and attempted to relax. "Ugh!" she shouted softly. She opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. Why couldn't she sleep?! Her eyes fell on her window and she groaned. She sat up, pulled her robe on, and flipped on her light.  
  
Stomping over to the window, she lifted it up and poked her head outside. "Spike?!" Her eyes scanned the darkness below.  
  
Sure enough a platinum blonde head peered around from the big oak tree and even in the dark of the night she could see his cobalt eyes staring up at her.  
  
"Spike, what are you doing?" she sighed, slightly annoyed. She'd never get any sleep with him so close.  
  
"Sorry pet, 'm I keepin ya up?" he apologized, looking up with his head cocked to the side.  
  
"Yes, you know I can't sleep with you here. I can't feel anything but you!" She stopped and blushed after her small outburst.  
  
He grinned widely, but quickly covered it with a look of guilt. "Didn't mean to keep you awake luv. You know how much I like to watch over you."  
  
She softened a bit. "Its really sweet of you, but..." she paused, with a sigh. "Meet me at the door, will ya?"  
  
"Sure pet," he headed for the front door.  
  
A moment later the door swung open and Spike was greeted with the sight of his very beautiful slayer in a short, sheer, dark purple robe, and her hair tied up in a messy ponytail. Under her robe was a matching nightgown that wasn't nearly as transparent or Spike knew he's surely die of heart attack. If it were at all possible, of course.  
  
Buffy suddenly became self-conscious of her garments by the way Spike's wide eyes taking her in. She blushed softly, wrapping her arms around herself. "C'mon in, its kinda cold."  
  
Spike finally moved from the spot he'd rooted himself upon and stepped in. He turned back to her as she shut the door. "Uh, sorry for keeping you up, pet..." he apologized softly.  
  
She felt a burst of pride, noticing the effect her state of undress obviously had on him. "Its okay," she replied shortly, feigning nonchalance, her arms still wrapped tightly around her. "I...uh…why don't..." she had no idea what to say.  
  
He chuckled softly and stepped towards her, gathering his senses. "Pet, you're so beautiful..." he breathed, taking a strand of her hair in his hand and petting it gently. "Don't be embarrassed, luv."  
  
She smiled softly, arms not budging. "I, uh… I should change..."  
  
"Don't be silly luv, 'll go..." he cupped her cheek. "Didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted to check on you an' the Bit..." he stepped closer, putting a hand over her arm. "I was worried like the bloody nancy boy 've become since 've fallen in love with you..." he pulled her arms from the hold she had on her body. He stepped into her, pulling her close, and she her arms around him.  
  
His body was cool it sent shivers down her spine. She felt the good kind of goose bumps popping up all over her body at the feel of him against her through the light fabric of her robe and nightgown. She smiled at him, kissing him gently. "My sweet, yet sadistic lover...thank you for worrying."  
  
"Anytime, pet," he brushed his lips on hers. His hands gripped her sides, teasing him with the feel of her flesh through the thin fabric.  
  
She melted in his arms, gripping the collar of his duster. She looked up to his eyes and grinned. "How bout some hot chocolate?"  
  
He groaned wistfully, tilting his head back before staring down at her with hesitation. "Don't wanna keep you up, luv. I should get going."  
  
"No, stay... for a little bit longer, please?" she pleaded, hanging onto him. "I'm awake now, and I never get to spend enough "boyfriend" time with you, now that 'm back in school. Slaying doesn't count."  
  
He had never been able to deny her anything, sop that he as, and if she wanted him to stay, he would without a second thought. "Alright luv, some hot cocoa does sound good." he kissed her forehead affectionately. He warmed inwardly at the thought of her wanting him around as much as possible.  
  
"Good..." she released her grip on him. "I've actually been craving some myself." she started off to the kitchen.  
  
Spike couldn't help but admire the view her sleepwear gave the eye. He grinned, head cocked to the side, watching her walk. He was one lucky bloke.  
  
She stepped into the kitchen, grabbing the kettle off of the counter and filling it, before putting up the water to boil.   
  
Spike stepped in after her, watching her intently. He slipped his arms around her from behind and began a trail of kisses along her neck, pulling the robe off her shoulder. He could feel his body growing warm with desire at the simple smell and touch of her. Wrapping his arms around her stomach, he hugged her body close and let out a sigh of happiness.  
  
Buffy leaned her head back, leaning into his body. She sighed heavily, enjoying his ministrations. She felt his hands playing with the knot that held her robe on. She turned in his embrace as her robe fell off her other shoulder and placed a kiss at the hollow of his throat. Putting her palms against his duster, she gently brushed the soft leather off of him. Then she pushed him gently against the island table and pressed into his body, pleased with the heat radiating from his eyes.  
  
What had gotten into her she didn't know, but she was enjoying this way too much to stop now. Her hands slid down his muscular chest, and played with the end of his shirt. They pulled it from his jeans and she slid her hands up his cool, soft skin.  
  
He hissed as if being burned. Her warm hands contrasted sharply with his flesh in the most delicious ways. "Buffy..." he groaned, trying to gain some composure.  
  
She moaned softly reveling in the feel of his marble-like skin. She breathed him in deeply, licking at the hollow of his throat. She sighed happily as his hands slid down her back.  
  
Her heart was pounding so heavily, it rang in Spike's ears. He could hear her blood pumping rapidly, rushing through her internal network, bubbling with excitement. It was all so intoxicating that the vampire fought the urge to rip her clothes off and take her then and there. He growled low in his throat, knowing he was a doomed man. He gripped her shoulders tightly. She was all over him, rubbing against him, and he didn't know how much more he could take before he burst from the feel alone. "Bufffyy..." he breathed heavily; needed to, for a change. "Bufffffyyyy..." he moaned, trying to get her attention.  
  
She felt butterflies turning in her stomach, excited. "Mm...." she moaned, nipping at his throat.  
  
"Pet..." he gasped, trying to regain control of his body. He wanted nothing more than to show the slayer how much he ached for her, but it wasn't time, and she wasn't ready. He didn't want to push her. Sex would be something huge between them. It wouldn't be some groping match on her mum's counter or rabid pawing of two strained and needy people. When it was their turn, he vowed to make it perfect. From all the experiences she'd had that were bad and cruel in the past, his would stand out in stark perfection, because she deserved it. "Stop... please..."  
  
Buffy was stunned by his words, so she slowed to a stop, looking up at him, face flushed. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Luv..." he sighed, trying to collect his thoughts into order, fragmented as his mind was. "Not yet... not like this..." he shook his head. "We don't wanna do something you'll regret tomorrow. I've waited this long to have you pet, a little longer won't hurt."  
  
"But…" she frowned, knowing deep down he was right. But she wanted him so badly. "I..."  
  
"I love you Buffy. I want that to be right and special for us, when it comes. Not cuz we got all heated in the kitchen," he chuckled softly, yet serious. He caressed her cheek. "I know I sound like a pratt, but I wanna be there when you wake up. I want it to be everything I know it can be."  
  
She nodded, loving him all the more for his restraint. "You're not a pratt," she assured him, leaning into the more tender embrace he suddenly presented. "You're right and you...are... so amazing..." She straightened her robe absently, in awe of how much this man really did love her. "How did I ever think differently of you?" She laid her head on where his heartbeat should be.  
  
"I gave you enough reason to hate me before," he chuckled, thinking back on their past.  
  
She gave a warm smile. "That you did."   
  
The teapot whistled then.   
  
"Tea time?" Spike teased.  
  
"No, Giles... tea sucks. Chocolate time!" she grabbed two mugs from the cabinet.  
  
"Mini marshmallows?" Spike peered over her shoulder.  
  
"Is there any other kind?" she grinned.  
  
"None worth having," he agreed, eyes sparkling as he scooped up his duster off the floor.  
  
She shivered softly at the look he gave her, thankful for the warmth of the teapot. She poured the steaming water into the mugs.  
  
Spike caught her shiver. "Gotcha all warmed up and now you've got a chill.." he slipped his duster gently over her shoulders.  
  
She pulled the soft, worn leather over her and immediately felt warmed. It was almost as good as having his arms wrapped around her. She brushed her cheek on the leather collar, catching his scent. The scent of smoke still lingered from years of exposure, the scent that was specifically his, with a mixture of spice, age, and … more recently.... she chuckled, wintergreen gum.  
  
"What's got you so tickled?" Spike eyed her.  
  
"Nothing," she grew silent. He was still occasionally testy bout having to give up his cigarettes. "Are you game for something new?" she changed the subject.  
  
Spike raised his brows. "Pet, isn't kinda late to spar?"  
  
"No, silly..." she opened the fridge, bringing out a carton. "I meant, will you try something with your cocoa."  
  
"What's that?" Spike sat at the table.  
  
She poured it into one of the mugs, stirring it. "Try it..." she presented it to him.  
  
Spike eyed it. "Well, I know it can't kill me..." he teased. "Looks like milk..." he watched her pour it in her mug.  
  
"C'mon..." she grinned, pushing the mug closer.   
  
He picked up the warm mug and brought it to his lips. He sipped it and grinned. "Mmhhmm... that's good pet. Whatcha put it in, Irish cream?" he asked thoughtfully.  
  
"Nooo, its half and half, milk and cream..." she grinned with satisfaction. "Dawnie and mom always used to tell me I was way gross for using it, but see! It tastes good!"  
  
Spike nodded. "It sure does." he was pleased she was sharing things with him, 'bout her family, 'bout her, specifically.  
  
They sat in a comfortable silence, drinking their cocoa and just enjoying each other. The clock ticked softly, the only sound in the room, sans her heartbeat and soft breathing.  
  
Spike thought how surreal the past few weeks had been, as he finished off his cocoa. Even now, sitting here with her was almost unbelievable. He thanked whatever powers that were responsible for him having this chance and he made a vow to himself to do nothing to screw it up. Like, oh... snacking on someone. Or hurting her friends, or disappointing Dawn, or being a poof to her. He told himself that he would betray her, or her love. She deserved that. He never thought she'd be so willing to give her love to him, and it was a treasure worth more than anything he'd ever known. She and Dawn were his life.  
  
He looked over at her. She seemed in her own world of thought as well. She was fingering the buttons on his duster, with a smile and a far off look in her eyes. He admired the look of her, lost in thought, subconsciously leaning into the fabric of his coat.  
  
She leaned her chin on her hand, elbows on the table. "You know. I really enjoy this."  
  
"What's that?" Spike picked up his empty mug and took it over to the sink, where he began, much to Buffy's delight, washing it.  
  
"Our quiet times. Where we just sit together, not say anything... We do that lots, don't we?" she grinned, looking to him. He turned around, hands covered in soap, and smiled.  
  
"They are nice, luv. Gives me time to think how lucky I am."  
  
"I'm pretty lucky too, for a change." she got up and set her mug beside his, taking the sponge from his hands and working on her own cup. He smiled and looped an arm around her, drawing her in front of him at the sink.  
  
Letting his soap covered hands trail touches down her forearms as she washed, he felt an emotion he'd never felt before. It made his body tingle with warmth and he felt like grinning brightly. So he did.  
  
She smiled and leaned the back of her head against his shoulder, rotating the mug slowly under the stream of water. He bent down and nuzzled her cheek gently, wondering when the change had occurred that such a domestic scene had become so heavenly in all its little ways. Time not so long ago, he never would have let something so trivial affect him so profoundly.  
  
He leaned into her touch, resting his temple against her, reveling closed in the presence that was uniquely Buffy. Every time he felt this way, with her so near he was afraid he would wake up, to find it all a dream. Which made it all the more sweet when he didn't. When he woke up and realized it was all real, and all his.  
  
Just when he was sure she was falling asleep, she stifled a yawn, and he picked his head up, switching the faucet off with a swipe of his hand. "Time for bed, pet."  
  
She groaned, blinking back the sleep in her eyes. "Not tired," she murmured softly.  
  
He chuckled, standing up. "Go to sleep, Slayer. We have a sparring match tomorrow and I don't want no excuses for me kicking your sweet ass."  
  
"Dream on fang face," she responded, still sleepy. "When 'm done with ya, 'll be using your platinum curls for a new mop." She pressed a kiss into his jaw line.  
  
He snarled softly, pulling her closer. "When 'm done with you slayer, you'll be begging for mercy..."  
  
"I thought I wasn't the begging kind," she teased, turning around in his arms, wondering if he'd remember. She knew he would.  
  
"Mmhhmmm..." he brushed his lips over the tip of her nose. "Maybe I can change that."  
  
"I don't think 'll have to beg too much for your mercy..." she teased his lips with hers. When his parted she kissed him deeply, fully, her breath catching at the emotions welling up with her. How long had it been since she'd been truly happy? How long since she'd been at ease, and comfortable, and in the arms of someone who loved everything about her? Did she even deserve to feel this? Her heart fluttered, her stomach flip-flopped, and her toes curled. Best of all, these sensations all brought her peace. And love. Lots of love.  
  
When their lips parted, she looked up to see his eyes shut tightly still. She traced his lips with her fingertip. "I love you, Spike. Don't forget that, ever..." she whispered, stroking his chiseled cheek.  
  
His eyes opened, a smile on his thin lips. "I love you too, baby. More than anyone or anything in all my time." He caressed her jawbone. "I swear it."  
  
She felt a ray of warmth shoot throughout her body at his confession. She pulled him into a hug and for a moment the world stopped.  
  
Then, sorrowfully, she walked him to the door. She slipped his duster off her shoulders, and he put it on again, inhaling the smell she'd left within it as if it were her present to him. "Thanks for keeping me warm."  
  
"Thanks for making me warm, pet." he winked. Her scent was now, and forever would be, a part of him. And he breathed it in deeply. Closing his eyes briefly, he reveled in that gift of realization. "I'll miss you..." he opened the front door.  
  
"I'll miss you, too. See you tomorrow night after I take Dawn shopping. Bring your fighting clothes," she teased.  
  
"Can't wait. Been a long time since I could fight back with you, baby," he grinned. Every time they'd sparred before, he'd been chipped and unable to really attack. He looked forward to a good fight. Course, he'd never truly hurt her. Vaguely, he wondered if he still could, considering how damn good she was.  
  
As if reading his thoughts, she reached up to him on her tip toes. "Hope you're not too rusty," she chuckled, kissing him.  
  
He smiled wanly. "Goodnight, Slayer..." he stepped out the door.  
  
"Goodnight, William," she replied, after receiving a short kiss from him.  
  
"Sweet dreams," he whispered before pounding down the stairs.  
  
"You too." she whispered back, before shutting the door.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The late afternoon sun poked into the ceiling windows of the giant mall that Saturday afternoon, illuminating shoppers in its light, making everything seem dreamy in its warmth. People crowded the halls and stores, perhaps getting an early start on their Christmas shopping. It was late October now, and though the sun shone brilliantly, it barely touched the proverbial chill of the approaching winter and more conspicuously, the shortening days.  
  
"Buffy, isn't this the most adorable jacket?!" Dawn squealed, revealing a lilac colored suede jacket clutched adoringly in her hands.  
  
Buffy examined with a coo if her own, reaching out automatically to feel the fabric with her hand. It was very pretty. "How much is it?" she asked, voice dreamy at the prospect of such a nice looking garment.  
  
Dawn turned the jacket in hand until she found the price tag, and turned it to her sister. Buffy hissed when she saw the price and hastily withdrew her hand. The jacket would cost all the money she had on her! She sighed and shook her head, realizing for the millionth time since her return from the great beyond that she really needed to squeeze a part time job in between school, slaying, and being a big sister. Not to mention, leaving time to spend with Spike. Depending on Giles to pay their bills was becoming uncomfortable. The watcher wrote a check out for every bill Buffy owed without so much as a complaint, though she knew it must have been weighing on him. She felt guilty about it, but with no money and her particular situation, she didn't have much choice. He was currently arguing with the council for a Slayer's salary. The council was reluctant, stating that no one slayer had ever lived long enough to really need their own source of income and that they weren't going to change ancient ways for any slayer, even one, Buffy Summers.  
  
"It's great, Dawnie, but I think it's a little out of our price range…" the aforementioned slayer stated with a resigned authority, taking the opulent garment from her sister and hanging it back up.  
  
Dawn pouted with striking likeness to her sister and watched with sad eyes as the jacket was whisked away like and hung like a fantasy, mocking her with how out of reach it was. She knew her sister was struggling to keep them well fed and a roof over their heads, but it was still painful to see things that beautiful and not be able to have them. But, the youngest Summers did realize that there wore things more important than clothes. Thank God for Giles, or both of them would probably have to shack up with Spike in his crypt. As much as Dawn loved the guy, sleeping in a crypt was not her idea of a pleasant home. So, right. Bills get paid first. And then frilly little girl luxuries later, if at all possible.   
  
As they exited the 'pricey' store, she mused about getting a job of her own. They headed downstairs to one of the cheaper, yet still fashionable stores. "You know, Buffy..." she started as they plodded dispiritedly down the stairs. "Maybe I can get an after school job, or something..."  
  
Buffy immediately whirled on her, with a look in her eye that told Dawn 'no way' before she even had a chance to speak any on the matter. "No chance in hell, Dawnie."  
  
"Why not?" she sighed incredulously. "Most people would be begging for their little sisters to get a job and help out. I only wanna help, you know!" she sighed, stepping into the trendy clothing store. She raised her voice so that Buffy could hear her over the pulsating beat of this week's latest techno fad pounding throughout the shop. "Besides, if I get a job at one of these places, we can get a discount!"  
  
"Its too dangerous, Dawn. You know that. You need to go to school, come home and be safe," Buffy emphasized.   
  
"How long are you gonna keep coddling me for?" Dawn sifted through a shirt rack, flinging aside garments with unnecessary force to vent her annoyance at her sister's over protectiveness. Spike was bad enough. Buffy was almost twice as bad. "Nothing bad can happen in a mall, Buffy! Besides, what's the point of going to school if I can never have a job!?"  
  
Buffy bit her lip, surveying a white sweater that would match that jacket they had seen perfectly. She sighed wistfully, but pushed it aside. "Look Dawn, I understand how you feel. I appreciate that you wanna help too, but I don't think it's a good idea. You should be concentrating on schoolwork, anyway. You're the one with the good grades, remember? The one Summers girl with a future."  
  
"But, Buffy!" Dawn pushed, more determined now than before to have her way now that she thought about all the pluses that would be involved. "It'd be kinda fun, ya know? A chance to make some friends... Be normal," she stressed. "I just don't see the harm in it. I'll come straight from school and Tara or Willow, Xander, Spike, or Giles or you can come get me! Just for a few days a week. PLEASE," she pleaded, gripping her sister's arm. "It's not good for me to just lie around the house and be lonely all the time," she added.  
  
Buffy felt herself caving in at the look Dawn was giving her. The one where she sort of had her head tilted down, eyes looking upward, one eyebrow sort of cocked higher than the other in hopefulness. Not to mention her ever rational, clever little sister had gotten her thinking about the pros of her getting a job. More money, Dawn having a normal life, Dawn out of her hair for a few hours, Dawn happy... It was a large mall... Someone would always be readily available to pick her up. She sighed. Hadn't she just accused Spike of being wrapped around Dawn's little finger last night? "Okay, okay... I guess a few nights a week can't hurt. You deserve a chance to be normal, even if your sister can't..." she drawled, picking up a turquoise button down. "Oh… pretty..."  
  
"YES!!!" Dawn brightened to what Spike called, "Bit of a thousand bolts" and hugged her sister tightly, crinkling the shirt in between them. She grinned sheepishly, then pushed that excited look from physical reaction to just an overjoyed expression in her eyes. "This'll be great! You'll see!! Extra money, and I can make new friends, and stay outta your way!" She rattled off her list of good points one more time, just in case Buffy hadn't been listening the first time. "Besides, nothing means more to me than trying to have a somewhat normal life."  
  
"That's the only reason 'm agreeing to this, you know," Buffy reminded Dawn, turning the blue shirt in her hands for a second before deciding it wouldn't hurt to buy it. "Least one of us will be normal," she added, absently.  
  
"Think of the plus side of not being normal," Dawn shrugged, stealing the shirt from the slayer's hands with surprising swiftness.  
  
"What's that?" she asked, snatching the pilfered shirt back.  
  
Dawn's eyes sparkled. "Spike," she summed up simply.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Think its time to head home, Dawn," Buffy checked her watch, chewing on a slice of pizza. They sat together in the food court, surrounded by their small legion of bags filled with clothes. It was late afternoon now, and in about another hour or so from, the sun would be down.  
  
"Aww man..." Dawn frowned. "Can we drop these applications off first?" she sifted through the many she'd picked up and managed to fill out while they ate.   
  
"Sure, guess we could at least do that," Buffy agreed.  
  
"Hey! Dawn!" a girl's voice called.  
  
Dawn looked up and saw her friend Lisa waving pleasantly in their direction. She hadn't seen her since the Bronze incident with the college boys. Which Buffy still didn't know the whole story about. Dawn cringed. *Oh good grief...* She was headed straight for them.   
  
"Hey Dawn, Buffy," Lisa smiled.  
  
"Hi Lisa," Dawn replied.  
  
"Nice to meet you Lisa," Buffy greeted, smiling.   
  
"Meet me? You met me at the PTA meeting, remember?" she sat next to them.  
  
"Oh... right..." Buffy nodded, looking properly contrite. It must have been the Buffy-bot.  
  
"So Dawn, whatcha been up to?! Haven't seen you since the Bronze!" Lisa started.  
  
"Uh yeah!! Been busy, you know, studying... school... good stuff, behaving and all..." she stuttered interrupting her before her friend could divulge any on the freak show that had occurred that night.  
  
Buffy eyed her sister carefully, vowing to get whatever story Dawn was avoiding, later.  
  
"So, you guys still shopping?" Lisa asked, also giving Dawn the eye.  
  
"Actually, we just finished." Buffy answered.  
  
"Yeah, we're just gonna drop off these applications. I'm getting a job," Dawn announced proudly.  
  
"Way cool, spending money is always good," Lisa nodded. "Hey, want me to tag along? Couple of the girls are with me, we'll hang out outside while you drop 'em off in the store, maybe we can catch a movie after…" she paused, looking at Buffy. "If that's okay with you."  
  
"Can I?" Dawn pleaded.  
  
"I dunno Dawn..." Buffy frowned.  
  
"Please?" she pleaded. "I'll come straight home after the movie."  
  
"Yeah, my 'rents are picking me up after it's finished, I can ask them to drop Dawn off at home," Lisa offered.  
  
"Well, I guess so." Buffy relented. She turned to Dawn, giving her her best "authoritarian" expression. "Go on, but be careful, and be home before 10:30!" she warned firmly. Well, not so firmly, but as firmly as she could. If Spike were here he'd tell her. Before Dawn turned on the "baby deer" eyes and Spike amended the curfew to 11, in any case.   
  
"Yes!! 10:30, I promise!" Dawn cheered. She bounced outta her chair, leaving Buffy and all the bags alone. "Later!"  
  
Buffy sighed. "Who's gonna pick me up?" she asked herself, wadding up her napkin before gathering up her bags and heading for a pay phone. If she waited until sundown, Spike could come get her. She made it across the food court towards the bathrooms, where the phones were. Picking up the receiver, she wondered if she should call and leave a message at the magic shop too. She really needed to get Spike a phone. Dialing her own phone number, she left a message on the machine. When her creature of the night boyfriend went there as soon as the sun had set, he'd check the messages, as he often did when he knew she was out and would possibly need a ride.  
  
After gathering all her bags, she made her way to a bench and sat down. With no money left to spend, she'd just have to wait.  
  
About an hour later, Buffy was sifting through her bag for another quarter, ready to call the Magic Box and tell him to get his undead ass over.  
  
"Hey, don't I know you?" a deep voice questioned her, interrupting her random, Spike related thoughts.  
  
Buffy looked up, expecting an enemy. Because if one knew the slayer, that was usually the case. She glared hard at the face for a second, and softened when she realized what, or rather, who it was. He was just a normal guy. "Know me? Um…" she racked her mind to find a place or a name that fit the face standing in front of her. "…I don't think so," she shook her head. "Sorry."  
  
"You go to Sunnydale U, don't you?" he asked, drawing closer.  
  
"Yeah, I do." she answered. She studied him carefully. His hair was a dark blonde, streaked with light blonde and brown streaks, and his eyes twinkled an emerald green. He wasn't extremely tall, but not short, and he seemed well muscled and trim. He had a friendly smile and an easy disposition. "You too?" She posed, tentatively?  
  
"Yeah, my name's Scott Calumet. We have poetry together, don't we?" he asked. "And history."  
  
"Scott..." Buffy thought. "I think so. Professor Landers, right? Medieval history and lore?"  
  
"Yeah! That's the one," he agreed. "Interesting stuff, ain't it?"  
  
"Um, the uh, the poetry, you mean?" Buffy stuttered.   
  
"Well, that too. But I meant the history..." he chuckled.  
  
"Right! History…" She blushed. "The history that you were talking of, of course…" she paused, slightly embarrassed. "Um…Buffy Summers."   
  
"Buffy, may I sit?" he asked.  
  
Buffy eyed him. He was quite handsome, and she didn't want to give him the wrong idea. "Uhh…"  
  
"I mean, if you're alone. I'm just kinda new in town." he paused. "God that sounds lame, huh?" he laughed.  
  
She grinned. "Have a seat. And don't worry, I remember being new in town too." She moved over to make room on the bench for him. "How long you been in town?"  
  
"Oh, bout 2 months or so. Tough crowd," he admitted, slightly sheepish.  
  
"Ya don't say," she responded wryly. "Well, welcome to the neighborhood." *And hell…* she added mentally "You'll make friends soon, I'm sure."  
  
"Well, looks like 'm bout too... I hope... if I don't blow it by rambling on," he stuffed his hands in his brown leather jacket. "I'm usually so collected and cool." He paused. "Well, sort of. Something about this town that keeps you on edge, though."  
  
"Yeah, tell me bout it..." she drawled. "I moved here a few years ago. You get used to the place, eventually."  
  
"Where'd you used to live?" Scott questioned.  
  
"LA," she responded.  
  
"Wow, and its stranger here?" he laughed. "I was born in the US, but my parents are from Britain. They got that cool accent and all. I got the surfer dude look and the smarts of a British scholar, if you believe it."  
  
"And you go to Sunnydale U?" Buffy asked. "Talk about settling for less."  
  
"Thanks..." he paused, eyeing her playfully. "I think." he chuckled. "I'm just not big on becoming some smart college dude. I just wanna live, enjoy life and die happy."  
  
Buffy lowered her eyes. "Sounds nice."  
  
"Say something wrong?" Scott asked, seeing her lower her eyes.  
  
"Oh, no..." Buffy shook her head. "Just must be nice to have it all planned out."  
  
"I really don't. I just sound like I do, really. I'm life's marionette. Pull the strings and I move y'know..." He moved his arm up and down in a stiff manner to emphasize. "I just wanna meet a nice girl, study my history, learn more 'bout mythological things, graduate, have kids and retire," he rattled off. "But life is never what exactly how we want to be, I guess, huh?"  
  
"That's for sure," she chuckled. "Well, maybe things will work out better when they're different. That's how I feel."  
  
"So, what's in the cards for you? If you don't mind me asking" Scott smiled at her, liking her already. "What's Buffy Summers wanna do with her life?"  
  
"Oh just live, see tomorrow and the next day and the next. Maybe find a job, finish college, see if I make it to then." she sighed.  
  
"Wow, not big on making future plans at all huh?" Scott teased.  
  
"I'm a moment to moment kinda gal," she shrugged. Hopefully the next billion moments in her life wouldn't result in re-kicking the famous bucket.  
  
"Nothing wrong with that..." Scott shook his head. "I think its cool, a person who's open to other options constantly."  
  
"Yeah," she agreed, though not full heartedly. It wasn't like she had a choice, after all.   
  
"So what does one do for fun in this place? Besides the mall?" Scott asked, changing the subject.  
  
Buffy laughed. "Besides hanging at the only club, the Bronze, I don't know. Not much time for fun in my life."  
  
"Busy lady?"   
  
"Busy doesn't begin to describe..." she leaned back. She suddenly found herself telling him about taking care of Dawn, attending classes, looking for a job... She couldn't believe how comfortable she was with talking to him. If she hadn't caught herself, she would've slipped to say something about slaying vampires. Once it started coming out, it was like a flood of thoughts coming off her lips into words.  
  
"Must be rough. I admire your grit," Scott complimented.  
  
"Thanks, but friends are a big help." she smiled.   
  
"What about boyfriend?" Scott asked, hoping her answer wouldn't be so positive.  
  
"Boyfriend?" she repeated.  
  
"Yeah," he nodded.  
  
She smiled, her heart pounding at the mere thought of him. "He's great."  
  
"Ah… knew a woman like you hadda have a good, honest man to lean on. Takes good care of you, does he? Works hard?" Scott frowned on the inside a bit. At least they could still be friends.  
  
Buffy chuckled a bit. It was hard picturing Spike as the man Scott had thought she'd have in her life. "He loves me a lot. He's always there when I need him. Sometimes when I don't, and well... there were times I didn't want him around. We used to hate each other." she stopped, looking dead into Scott's eyes. Why was she telling him all this? Why was she so finding it so easy to tell him these things?  
  
"Really?" he tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "How funny..."  
  
"Yeah, but..." she smiled again. "He changed a lot. Made me realize how much I loved him."  
  
"Well, you answered my next question."   
  
"Which was?" she pressed anyway.  
  
"If you love him," Scott responded.   
  
"Yes, I do. A lot. He's my equal, my partner, my everything. I never realized how much I depended on him, and for a lot more than just normal boyfriend/girlfriend stuff." Her tawny eyes brightened as she spoke.  
  
"Wow, how long you guys been together?" he said.  
  
"'Bout two weeks," she chuckled.  
  
"And you love him that much?"  
  
"Well, I've known him for at least five years. Three of those five as an enemy. It took a long time for us to just be friends, but he's come to mean the whole world to me," she revealed.  
  
"That's amazing. I admire you," Scott smiled warmly. "I've never had the pleasure of knowing love like that, or at all. It must be great"   
  
Buffy nodded, feeling so lucky herself, and yet bad for him, if he'd never felt the kind of love she had. "When you do, its the one most amazing feeling in the world," she sighed. "I thought I knew love before, but not like this."  
  
"That's really great Buffy. I totally envy you," Scott squeezed her shoulder. "So does he go to school, too?"  
  
"No," she replied, wary of questions about Spike. "He...uh… he's already graduated. He...works...in…the cemetery..." she spoke in single syllables, unsure of what to say exactly. "He's a poet," she rambled off before she could stop herself.  
  
"Cool, freaky, but cool." Scott laughed. "So he's older than you?"  
  
"Oh yeah," she widened her eyes. "But not nearly as old as my last."  
  
Scott found himself grinning again. "Like the older guys, huh?"  
  
"Something like that," she fidgeted with her watch. It was getting real late. Where was said boyfriend, anyway?  
  
"Uh oh…" Scott's eyes left her and trained on something in front of them.  
  
"What's wrong?" she looked at him, worried.  
  
"Some freaky looking punk dude is staring at us. Think he might try something. Looks like a real bad ass wannabe..." Scott whispered. "He's looking right at us. Don't move."  
  
Buffy turned her head around, seeing a platinum blonde vamp in a duster, clad in black clothes, pacing towards them, looking slightly miffed. "Oh, no. That's just Spike."  
  
"You know that guy?" Scott asked, confused. "A friend of yours from LA or something?"  
  
"Oh," she laughed. "That's my boyfriend."  
  
"THAT'S your boyfriend?" Scott shouted in a whisper.   
  
"Yeah," Buffy said giving him an eye. She set her chin proudly. "He is."  
  
"Sorry, I don't mean it that way, Buffy. He just seems...." he paused, eyeing the man again. "Dangerous?"  
  
"Oh, well..." she chuckled, thinking of the humor in the situation. "He's really not at all like he seems, Scott. In fact, he can be a big cuddle bunny."  
  
"If you say so." he swallowed hard. "Maybe I should go..."  
  
"Don't be silly..." Buffy turned her head from looking at Spike's calculated approach to find the seat beside her empty. "Scott?"  
  
"Slayer?" Spike finally reached her.  
  
"Hey," Buffy smiled. "Was just talking to a friend from school." she stood up.  
  
"Really?" Spike eyed her.  
  
"Yes, really..." she answered studying him. "Now who's eyes are green?" she chuckled, kissing his cool lips gently. "He's in my poetry class. I just spent the last hour telling him how much I love you, so bring back those beautiful blue eyes I love so much, will ya?" she slipped her arms around him.  
  
"Why'd he run off?" Spike asked, curious as to who the git was that he'd so obviously seen give his lady the eye.  
  
"You scared him." She knew him well enough to know that he'd find the ego flattering soothing.   
  
Sure enough, his mind instantly switched gears and he grinned cockily. "Big Bad's still got it."  
  



	3. Play To Win

**Chapter Three: Play to Win**  
  
About an hour later, Buffy tied her hair into a ponytail. "Sure you're up to this?" she teased him.  
  
Spike glared at her and snorted. "I think the question is are you, pet?"   
  
"For you, 'm always ready Spike." she stretched, warming up.  
  
"That so, luv?" Spike gave her his stealthy, snarky grin. His eyes twinkled with repressed energy. " Reckon that's why you've staked me already, eh?" He winked.   
  
"I'm just waiting for the right moment. Like to watch you squirm," Buffy crossed her arms, playing her role.  
  
"Mmmhmmm," Spike murmured, studying her. "Like to watch you do things too, pet..." he licked his lips provocatively. He slinked around her in circular motion, as if studying potential prey.  
  
Her eyes followed him, watching his every move, from the slight bend in his knees to the minor elevation in his arms for balance, to his poised position on the balls of his feet. She remained silent, as his eyes slid over her like fire. She pulled a stake from her sleeve, eyes never leaving his as she did.  
  
"Well now, looks like you've got your weapon," Spike smiled, eyes widening, totally enjoying the moment. He put on his game face. "And I've got mine..." he stopped circling.  
  
"What are we waiting for, then?" Buffy raised her brows, wondering why he hadn't done anything yet.  
  
He grinned at her question. "What am I waiting for?" He paused in his movements and stood rigid, in a position to be completely unable to attack, looking thoughtful. "Hmmm…what am I waiting for? Well, you're the Slayer, what are you waiting for?" he baited, putting his hands in his pockets, as if searching for his gum.  
  
She looked somewhat indignant at his remark. And shifted her wait to the side, hands on hips. "Oh I don't know, I thought I'd let you get the first hit in, so your man pride isn't that injured when I kick your ass."  
  
"Oh, baby likes to play, does she?" he asked, highly amused. "Well pet, did it ever occur to you, that what I was really waiting for, was you to let your guard down?" he announced, leaping at her and ducking under her defenses once he knew she was in no position to avoid his attack. He ducked under an ill-timed, perhaps halfhearted swipe at his person. His arms quickly encircled her waist and he swung himself behind her with that animalistic grace that belonged to both he and her, and bent his fangs towards her neck. "A bit slow tonight, honey?" he rumbled seductively, mouth poised inches from the blood he could hear pumping rapidly beneath the surface.  
  
She leaned back against him, stake in hand forgotten. "Maybe I wanted to be a little slow," she responded coquettishly as his features returned to human and he placed a soft kiss on the side of her throat.   
  
"Mmm, minx," he muttered against her skin. "You know, I'd much rather be kissing you than fighting you."  
  
"I know," she responded. And with a sudden shift of her weight, she threw Spike over her shoulder, onto the floor in front of her, and planted a shoe daintily on his chest. She smiled down at him triumphantly. "Little slow tonight, sweetie?"   
  
He grinned up at her. "That's my girl."   
  
"Who knew you went for the dominatrix thing?" she joked, helping him up off the floor. "Oh wait, I did."  
  
He growled playfully. "Tease."  
  
"Hey, no fair using the cute growlies," she warned, hearing him. "We're supposed to be training. Making me all jello-y is an unfair advantage. And Giles is in the next room!"  
  
He charged her and threw a punch, which she easily ducked. "You know I go straight for the kill, babe."  
  
"Funny how you keep losing though, isn't it?" she quipped back, neatly executing a cross combination with her arms, though the face of her palm only struck thin air. The distinctive "whoosh" of Spike's duster told her that he'd slipped behind her again, and she spun a rapid kick off her right leg and struck with the left. He leaned backwards six inches to avoid it, and sprung back into position once it had passed, going in to sweep low with his legs while she was slightly off balance from her miss.   
  
"Only keep losing so as not to destroy your fragile confidence Slayer, thought you knew that," he responded conversationally, as she fell from his well-executed blow.  
  
She grunted when she hit the mat face first, but rolled quickly left to avoid the next hit. Springing to her feet, the Slayer turned and struck out, fist coming in contact with hard (distractingly familiar) pectoral muscles. Spike staggered backwards a bit and she pressed the advantage. "Yeah, so you keep telling yourself," she snorted, throwing a hook punch to his left side, which he blocked bodily by throwing up his forearms. She led with the other hand to counter, but this time he caught it, hands clutching her at the wrist and forearm, rendering the arm helpless. He gave a circular pull downward and she felt herself being yanked forward. Shifting her weight, she put her feet in front of her and turned the fall into a flip. Once she'd regained her equilibrium she threw her free arm backwards with enough force to throw the vampire off balance. With her back still facing him, she threw and elbow into his stomach. He moved backwards again, but recovered more speedily than she would have thought.  
  
He flipped over her and executed a perfect spin kick into her right shoulder, and she grunted in surprise. "Don't need to keep tellin' myself when I know," he stated, picking up the dialogue again easily, as if they were in her living room, talking conversationally with one another on the couch. "I mean really, Slayer, you know I'm bloody good."  
  
"Bloody full of it, more like it," she grunted in response, feigning left before delivering a partial uppercut to his stomach with her right hand. He flew backwards and landed on his back, chuckling at the same time.   
  
"That's why you love me, baby," he laughed, springing up in classic martial arts fashion.   
  
"And that's also why I'm going to kick your ass," she zinged back, playfully, breathing heavily yet feeling rejuvenated from their excursions.   
  
"You sure talk a lot, Slayer. Not much for action though, from what I've seen," he teased.   
  
"Oh yeah?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'll show you action, buddy." She pushed towards him, throwing the fastest, strongest series of punches she could, alternating elbows with fists with palms. He dodged and blocked most, exhilarated and unbelievably turned on by her physical prowess.   
  
"Not bad, Slayer. But you're still doin' one thing wrong."  
  
She never ceased her attack. "What's…that?"  
  
"You press when you don't have an advantage," he revealed, sliding his entire body sideways as she threw herself forward. Grabbing an arm extended by punching while he dodged, he twisted it behind her and used his other hand to pin her free arm to her side. "And… you talk too much." His game face descended and he nicked the side of her neck shallowly with a fang. "You lose, tonight."   
  
She was about to object to his questionable use of fangs, but all annoyances subsided when she felt his tongue gently lap up the thin rivulet of red liquid he had drawn from her throat. "Been a weird day," she excused lamely.   
  
"Uh huh. Something happen at the mall, pet?"   
  
"I'm just worried about Dawn. She's still at the movies," Buffy revealed. "With friends. And no one watching out for her."  
  
Spike chuckled a little. "Knew you were thinkin' on somethin'. Or you wouldn't have let me get that first sweep in so early in the game."  
  
"That obvious, huh?"  
  
"Like Poofy in a Gap store, luv. Why so worried 'bout Nip? She's got a good head on her shoulders. An' she promised she'd be back at 10:00 sharp."   
  
"I don't know." Buffy walked over to the cabinet and withdrew a towel, wiping off her arms and neck. "It's Dawn. I'm nervous whenever she's out without me. Hell god or no hell god present." She paused thoughtfully. "Oh don't even pretend you're not, Mister. I know you are. Or you would have totally read that feint and dodged the uppercut," she pointed out.  
  
He raised his hands defensively. "I'm not worried. Well, maybe a bit, but not much."  
  
"And why not?"  
  
Spike shrugged. "Cause whelp and ex-demon were goin' to the theater tonight. Probably went to see the same over-hyped movie."  
  
"They are?"  
  
He nodded.   
  
"You knew this?"  
  
He nodded again.  
  
"Oh, so unfair advantage," she griped. "If I'd have known, I totally would have been concentrating more."  
  
"And here I thought my seductive charm and dashing good looks had you all in a knot," he stated, arching an eyebrow fiendishly.   
  
She snorted. "Not even."  
  
He feigned hurt. "Not even a bit?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Little?"  
  
"Huh uh."  
  
"Tiny bit?"  
  
She grinned. "Maybe."  
  
He turned triumphant. "Knew it."  
  
"Did not."  
  
"Did too."  
  
"Did not…"  
  
"Ahem…"  
  
Both Slayer and vampire turned at the sound of Giles clearing his throat. "Are you done training, already?" the Watcher asked, looking from one to the other expectantly. "Because if you are, I'd suggest the two of you go on patrol before you kill us all with your not so witty banter," he drawled dryly, though there was humor behind his eyes.  
  
"Who crawled up your pants today, Watcher Boy?" Spike asked conversationally, plopping down on the couch lazily.   
  
"Anya and inventory, if you must know."  
  
Buffy and even Spike looked sympathetic at that statement. "No worries Giles, we're heading for patrol right now."  
  
"Goin' to Willy's, see if we can't get a heads up on whomever decided to make a vamp of Messy last night," Spike explained. He smirked. "Been too bloody long since I got to see that weasel squirm in my grasp."  
  
"Spike," Buffy warned.  
  
He sighed. "Right. I'll be a good lil Scooby, pet," he promised, holding up his hand in a poorly postured imitation of the Boy Scout's salute.   
  
Buffy scoffed. "Where did you even learn that?"  
  
"Oh, who bloody doesn't know it? Poofy doesn't count."  
  
The Slayer rolled her eyes and headed to the weapons cabinet. "You know, I think you have some obvious insecurity issues with Angel."  
  
"Or I just like makin' fun of him."  
  
"Or that. But I'm leaning more towards the former. You know, my psych professor says that patriarch issues spring from a…"  
  
"Oh please. If I had patriarch issues I'd have killed him long ago. He's just fun to poke'n prod. Too slow to say anythin' witty, too bad tempered to do anything impressive," Spike snorted derisively.   
  
Giles watched the banter with a slightly defeated, amused look and leaned against the doorway leading into the front of the shop. Xander had been absolutely right that one day he'd overheard the boy talking with the group while doing research. Those two were so obvious. He just wondered when Buffy would have the courtesy to come out and tell him about her relationship with William the Formerly Bloody. Until then, he figured he'd let those continue to stomp on the eggshells they so cleverly thought they were tiptoeing upon when in his presence. "Children please, behave," Giles chastised, as the argument shifted to the issue of whether Angel copied Spike or vise versa on the duster look.   
  
Spike turned, indignant. "Children? I could be your bloody grandfather, Rupert."  
  
"Thankfully not…" Giles drawled, and then purposely lowered his voice so neither could hear him. "…or you doing whatever sordid thing you're doing with Buffy would be considered incest." He shook his head and raised his tone once again. "Well, good luck tonight, be careful, and I'll check in with Dawn later, when she's supposed to be back."  
  
Buffy smiled. "Thanks, Giles." And yanked Spike out the back door.   
  
"I'll have her back by 1 o'clock, da!" Spike called back, in that annoyingly impudent tone he liked to use when he thought he was one up on someone.  
  
Giles sighed and returned to the restock orders he currently had piled on the counter of the Magic Box. "Da, indeed," he muttered. "I knew I should have staked him when I had the chance."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"You want to be good cop or bad cop?" Buffy asked as they strolled hand in hand towards the direction of Sunnydale's seedy side. "Cuz personally, I think I make a better bad cop than you."  
  
Spike scoffed. "Cha, you would. Except for the whole little blonde girl thing," he drawled. "I'm ten times the bad cop you are."  
  
"Only because you're ten times uglier," Buffy responded instantaneously. "Fine, you be bad cop."  
  
"And you twirl your hair 'round your finger an' pop your gum on the sidelines," Spike agreed.   
  
She slugged him in the arm. "Stereotype much?"  
  
He rubbed at the place she'd struck him with his free arm and feigned a dour look. "Like you aren't askin' for it, pet. Your name is Buffy, you're blonde, you live in California, and you were a cheerleader. If you're objectin' to the stereotype all I can say is that it's your own bloody fault."  
  
She glared at him. "Bite me."  
  
"Is that an offer for dinner, luv?"   
  
She made a face. "I totally walked into that one, didn't I?"  
  
He nodded sadly and squeezed her hand in his own. "'Fraid so. You must really be off your game if you let me beat you physically and verbally all in one night."  
  
"I just felt bad 'cause you normally NEVER win."  
  
"Pfft. Like it's ever made you feel bad before," he snorted, absently tracing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb as they bickered.   
  
She laid her head on his shoulder. "What kind of a girlfriend would I be if I didn't occasionally feel bad for constantly kicking your ass?"  
  
"Erm…the regular Buffy kind?"  
She elbowed him. "I'll respond to that later. But we're here. So…"  
  
He nodded, and furrowed his brow, feigning seriousness. "Right. All business, then."  
  
They stopped at the entrance to Willy's, the bar as per usual, looking and smelling less than inviting. Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Is it just me or does this place get slimier and slimier every time we visit it?"  
  
"It's not you, luv, it's the clientele," Spike quipped, pushing the door open. "Got enough slime between 'em to keep Angel's hair slicked back for the next 250 years…"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Patriarch issues," she echoed, stepping in ahead of him.  
  
Somewhere between the outside world and the door, flirtatious, teasing Buffy became all business, bad ass Slayer. It was a marvel to behold, and Spike found himself forgetful of the fact that he was supposed to undergo a similar transformation as they entered the alternate universe that was Willy's. Instead he marveled at how the girl he'd seen giggle herself silly over some prat in a chick flick last week proceeded to make every head, demon, human, or multiple, turn towards her the second she crossed the threshold. He observed the uncomfortable silence that fell over the room like a blanket, effectively smoldering conversation and action all together, save for the occasional, involuntary drip of slime from one of the bar patron's overactive pores.   
  
Willy looked up from trying (in vain) to wipe a spot from the inside of a glass with his greasy rag as his establishment fell into a sort of tense haze. He sighed inwardly, knowing that it was either Buffy, Spike or… he squinted into the shadows… even better; both. He tried not to look as nervous as he felt. "Uh… Slayer… hi. And Spike. Fancy seeing you both here, you know, at the same time."  
  
Hearing the sound of the weasel's voice was enough to shake Spike out of the little trance he'd put himself into while watching his woman work, and with a little toss of his head to clear it, he stepped out from where he'd stopped in the doorway and followed Buffy up towards the bar, eyes dark and dangerous.   
  
"Willy…" Buffy greeted with a curt nod of her head. She placed her elbows on the bar, but made a face as the demon next to her took a puff on its cigarette.  
  
Spike growled in his throat, remembering a statement not so long ago about how those were detrimental to the health of humans. And how they tended to shorten one's life if one was within close proximity to them. Sidling up to the smoking demon, the vampire tapped it on one the rotting brown horns that grew along its shoulder.  
  
It looked up and grunted something at him in its own language, which he could only partially decipher. Spike decided it had said, "What do you want?" or something to that effect, but in actuality, there had probably been a rude monomer placed at the end of the statement, though whether it was against his mother's virtue or the sanctity of his birth, he wasn't sure.   
  
"I think the lady would appreciate it if you put that out." The vampire gestured to the cigarette.   
  
The demon glared at Spike and took the cigarette out of its mouth. However, instead of putting it out, like the vampire had so politely asked it to do, the thing puffed errantly in Buffy's direction and stuck the smoke back into his mouth.  
  
Buffy made a face, but generally ignored the demon and turned back to Willy. Spike growled. He'd been polite… hadn't he? Deciding that it was time he put the blasted thing out himself, he grasped the back of the demon's head in one lightning fast moment and shoved its head face first into the bar. The pressure effectively stomped out the cigarette, though unfortunately (well, not really) the force of the vampire's blow caused the distinct snap of broken facial bones and crunching cartilage sound throughout the silent bar. The vampire felt flesh bruise as blood vessels ruptured under the pressure of his hand, and he took great delight in the grating sounds the gurgling demon made as he continued downward force, making a sweeping motion from left to right with his wrist to add to the pain out of pure spite. Spike grinned and allowed demon's head to come back up, where his victim murmured incoherently, dazed and in pain. "Thanks mate," he grinned, plucking the destroyed cigarette out of his adversary's mouth and tossing it into a nearby ashtray. "Right then, business."  
  
Buffy held back the giggle that threatened to escape her throat by coughing. "So, Willy. We heard from a fledgling last night that there's actually organized sire-age going on."  
  
Willy resumed, with apt fascination, his attempts to remove that spot from the mug. "Vamps get sired all the time in Sunnydale. Hellmouth, remember?"  
  
Spike growled. "Don't like dumb people who think they have smart mouths, weasel. I suggest you answer the lady's query."  
  
Willy took the chance to sneer at Spike from behind the. "Or you'll what? Concussion me to death?"  
  
One second later, the bar owner found himself dangling on the other side of the bar, about a foot off the ground by the collar of his shirt, gasping for air. His mind did flash on the irony of the fact that the one time he attempted to have some spine it completely backfired. "You…you're not supposed to…" he managed to wheeze out, as Spike morphed into demon form.  
  
"Got that little problem fixed up, Willy my friend. In a bit of a mood to see how far my lady friend here, will let me take it."  
  
Willy looked to Buffy, who had seated herself primly on one of the bar stools, next to the demon who was still clutching his broken face. She looked bored. "Aren't you… supposed to…protect humans?" the small man barked desperately.   
  
"Nothing in the Slayer handbook bout her havin' to protect rats," Spike pointed out, wickedly demonic smile on his face. "So… you know anything, or do I get to have a bit of a snack after all?"   
  
"He'd hardly be two bites," Buffy chimed in with an overdramatic sigh, looking from Spike to Willy.   
  
"I think I could nip three out of him, what do you think, pet?"  
  
"I think…that he'd better say something before I take you up on that wager."  
  
Willy choked, and grasped at Spike's forearms in an attempt to gain some leverage and hopefully, some oxygen. The vampire growled the second the human's oily hands came in contact with his leather, and dropped his potential meal with a disgusted thud.  
  
Buffy studied Willy while he lay on the floor gasping, clutching an injured throat. She supposed he looked properly cowed. "So… sire-age. Your memory get jogged a little?" she asked conversationally, cocking her head to the side and regarding the barkeep with a look that was disinterested and at the same time, deadly.   
  
Willy wheezed and pulled himself to his feet. "I ah… I haven't heard much…but ah…" he paused to swallow gingerly and rub at his throat with his hand. "Heard from some of the fledglings that one of the older one's has moved in. Wants to be master of the hellmouth."  
  
"Great, more ambitious vamps," Buffy sighed. "Do we get a name?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Spike growled and advanced on Willy again, ready to drain it out of the man if he had to. Buffy stopped him with a sharp look. "He's telling the truth."  
  
Spike's eyebrow rose a fraction. "Sure?" he asked.  
  
She nodded. "He knows better than to lie to us, don't you, Willy?" she turned to the snitch and gave her most icily pleasant smile.   
  
"Yeah, of course, Slayer. You know me."  
  
"I do know you. And I'll bet the second you get more information, you'll come right over and tell us about it, so we don't have to come and mess up business here again, right?" She still used that sweet, annoyingly perky tone. Spike grinned inwardly. She could be wicked when she wanted to be.  
  
"Yeah. I'll call you right up, I find out anything new."  
  
"Good. You do that," Spike agreed, eyes flashing gold. "We'll be off then." He reached over and straightened Willy's collar, giving the small man a particularly nasty look. "Nice talking to you, Willy. Old times," he chortled.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes at her boyfriend and led him back outside. "Well, that was a bust."  
  
Spike shrugged. "New Master? We'll hear of 'em soon enough, I figure."  
  
"Well, I'd like to do it before a whole lot more people died."  
  
"Guess there's always that." Spike looked thoughtful. "Maybe the Wiccas could conjure us up a hand?"  
  
Buffy made a face.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "No, not an actual hand, you nit. The help kind of hand."  
  
"Oh. Sorry, bad Mummy hand memories." She paused. "Well, we could ask them to help I guess." She cocked her head to the side as her hand found his and she entwined their fingers. "Have you noticed…"  
  
"Underlying tension 'tween the lovers?" Spike finished her thought, looking at her. She seemed almost surprised, but then remembered that Spike was the one vampire in the world attuned to the human psyche.   
  
"Yeah. Most of the time they're okay. Then sometimes, it just seems…weird."  
  
"Well, can't always have a smooth ride in love, I reckon."  
  
She stopped. "So you're saying there's going to be trouble for us?"  
  
He made a face. "You mean more than there's been already in just gettin' here?" He shook his head. "Maybe."  
  
"You're not worried? You don't sound worried." She frowned.  
  
He squeezed her hand and shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe a little. But I figure, if something does happen, I'll do everything I can to make it up to you, til I'm dead, for good, at least."  
  
She smiled ruefully. "That might have been the sweetest thing ever. Except for the fighting part."  
  
"Well, the ups and downs are half the fun, don't you think, luv?"  
  
"I don't know. I guess we'll see."  
  
"Guess we will."  
  
  



	4. Is The Past Still Nipping At You?

**Chapter Four: Is The Past Still Nipping At You?**  
  
"It's just a tiny spell!" Willow promised. "I just want to try it out and see. It'll help in the future if I can get it to work!"  
  
"What if it…if it, backfires, and accidentally hurts Spike?" Tara protested, eyes saddened at the vehemence with which her lover was pursuing the topic. They were sitting in the living room of the Summers' couch, a movie playing long forgotten on the television.  
  
"It only works if I'm looking at the vamp I want to dust!" Willow responded, trying to stay reasonable, though her temper was beginning to flare. Didn't Tara trust her?  
  
"It's too dangerous. And it's not a specific enough spell, Willow."  
  
"What, you think I'm going to go around and dust people? What next, you think I'll start killing kitties? Or…or… cussing? I thought you knew…"  
  
"I know you'd never do it on purpose, honey… it's just, accidents happen with these types of things…"  
  
"But think of all the good that could come of it, baby! If we could just look at a demon and say, "dust" and it's gone? It would keep Buffy AND Spike from stepping right into the danger and…"  
  
"Maybe it is helpful. But, but what if, if you do it one too many times? It's…it takes a lot of energy…and a lot of concentration… if you mess up…what if it turns Spike into dust? Or, or it hurts Buffy? Or you?" Tara's eyes were wide and pleading.   
  
Willow looked horrified at Tara. "You…you don't trust me!? You think I'd hurt them! You don't think I can handle it!"  
  
"No! I didn't say that, it was just…" Tara trailed off weakly. "What if?"  
  
"There are no what ifs! What ifs are amateur witchy things. I'm so on top of that, can't you see? I've been practicing, and, and, and, doing witchy stuff, a lot. I'm good at it!"  
  
"I know you're powerful, and I know you get better every time we practice, but this sort of spell is just too risky, Willow."  
  
The redhead, looked down, unable to meet her lover's eyes. "You don't trust me."   
  
Tara almost moved to apologize at the sad, lost tone Willow had taken, but in a sudden spur of backbone, remembered that it was important for Will to understand what she was saying. "I do trust you. I don't trust the powers you're trying to tap, honey. Just…please…"   
  
Willow was deeply hurt by her lover's lack of faith in her. "Fine. I'll just keep being useless, or, or, doing baby spells that involve putty in the eyes, and stuff."  
  
"You're not useless, baby! You're very important!" *unlike me,* Tara thought before she could stop herself.   
  
"I want to be more helpful!" Willow started. "I mean, Buffy and Spike have their super powers. And they get to use them, like, all the time! How come when I want to use mine, it's automatically wrong?"   
  
"Magic is trickier than super strength and super speed, Willow," Tara started explaining. "That's, that's just the way it is." She smiled lightly, trying to appear comforting.   
  
Willow sighed. "Fine, I won't do the dusty spell."  
  
Tara's face lit up with relief. "Thank you." She got up and kissed her girlfriend on the temple, before looking at the clock on the far wall. "I'm going to go take a shower, okay?"  
  
"Okay," Willow responded, squeezing Tara's hand before the blonde turned to go upstairs. Deciding that she could do the spell without Tara's help. *I mean, it can't hurt anyone if they don't know, right? And if it saves someone in the future, then all the better.*  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Buffy surveyed the area, hoping they'd run into some vamps to dust. She'd let her muse run rapid with the idea of having trouble with Spike and the possibilities (and the bruises) didn't look promising. She wasn't sure she was prepared to handle any arguments with him. Their relationship began with enough stress in it already, from keeping it hidden from Giles to the whole vampire/slayer thing, to Riley, Angel, and the chip incident. The thought of them arguing and fighting (more than they already did and not half as playful) seemed unbearable.   
  
Other thoughts of the possibility that Spike would go on a killing craze if things were to go poorly crossed her mind, but she quickly shoved it aside with a quick mental chastisement, thoughts of the good he'd done for her and the Scoobies instantly replacing her sudden doubt.   
  
"So what's a Slayer and her pet vampire s'pposed to do on a Saturday night?" Spike teased, flanked at her side as they walked hip to hip in a natural rhythm.  
  
She dodged around a tombstone with him close by and sighed. "It'd be nice to do some real boyfriend-girlfriend type stuff, you know?" she suggested, though the prospect sounded hopeless even to her. But it was nice to fantasize a little.   
  
"Hmmm..." Spike licked his lips. "Like have us a good snog in a cemetery?"  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. "There's more to life than making out, Spike."  
  
"Really?" Spike raised his brows.  
  
She glared, shaking her head. "Ugh..."  
  
"I'm teasin,' pet..." he assured her, voice low and friendly in a way that made him seem all the more real in the role of boyfriend. And the fact that he was slightly pouty only added to the effect.   
  
Spike sighed inwardly when she didn't respond to his soothing behavior. Why was she suddenly upset with him? He studied her frame, from the lilt of her walk to the slight slump of her shoulders. He watched the way her lips pouted deliciously and piteously at the same time, and how her arms dangled at her sides. He frowned, feeling angry with himself for doing something to upset her. A right wanker, he was.   
  
His mind flitted back to earlier in the day, at the mall. He felt his mind cloud with blackness and he grated his teeth at the images his twisted memory reproduced. He rolled his shoulders, snapping the joints in his neck to keep his anger in check. "What would you like to do then, Slayer? Maybe we can go to the mall and have a nice chit chat or something..."  
  
She stopped in her tracks and glared at him with ice in her eyes. "Why'd you say that?"  
  
"You want a normal night, Buffy? Well I'm not your guy..." Spike kicked at a stone halfheartedly.  
  
"Oh that's real sweet, Spike," she hissed back, crossing her arms and turning away from him completely. She bit on her lip. He would NOT break her down to tears. She stomped a few feet away, knowing she'd dissolve into them any minute. This was not supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to be able to get to her with a few stupid words like that. It wasn't that far along between them, dammit!   
  
Spike felt his anger fading at the sadness that darkened her eyes before she had turned from him. He took a deep breath, wondering if it would somehow help him control his sudden urge to pummel something senseless. He closed his eyes for a moment and willed the demon whispering wicked things in him to stop. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself moving briskly to her side. He was so slayer whipped it wasn't even funny. He didn't really care to laugh anyway. "Pet... 'm..."  
  
His apology was rudely cut off when he was knocked across the head with something heavy and blunt. He hit the ground with a thump and a muffled curse.  
  
Buffy turned around quickly at the sound, her anger dissolving to instant concern. "Spike!" she cried out before receiving a similar blow to the head, which knocked her over a tombstone. She landed on her rear, forced to stare up at her attacker.  
  
A large, powerfully muscled vamp snarled at her, reaching for her throat hungrily.  
  
She rolled backwards, easily avoiding his grasp before hopping to her feet and pulling a stake out with her momentum. "Don't you know it's not nice to interrupt a lover's spat?"  
  
It growled, advancing slowly. "Soon you'll be dead and it won't matter, Slayer..."  
  
"Been dead... twice actually. No biggie, really. Why don't you try it again too?" she quipped, throwing a spinning kick into her attacker's chest, which sent him flying backwards.  
  
The vamp staggered, clutching its chest irritably as it glared at her. "If I don't kill you, my sire will. There are many of us, Slayer, all dedicated. You're no match," he ground out, jumping at her. "Not even with the traitor's help."   
  
"Yeah, so afraid. So very…" Buffy paused to yawn. "…afraid." She stuck her boot out in a spinning arc, catching the demon smartly across the jaw. He toppled over and she pulled her stake and planted a foot on the vampire's chest. "And just who is this sire of yours?"  
  
It coughed, glaring up at her with angry yellow eyes. "Sire said you'd ask. I'm not to tell..."  
  
Spike groaned, finally coming back to consciousness.   
  
"Well, you can tell me and I'll let you go, or I can just slay you and find out later..." Buffy baited.  
  
"Sire said you'd be tricky, but I won't tell. My master's identity is secret," he hissed in reply.  
  
"Your master's a chicken," Buffy snorted. "Too afraid of the Slayer to come out of hiding..."  
  
The vamp ignored her and turned its ridged head towards Spike instead. "I have a message personally for you, traitor. When the stars are all named and the dead bird sings, master will come for you both. There'll be no place to hide and you both will die. You can't stop us. We're too powerful this time," the vampire chuckled happily, even as Buffy made a disgusted face at it and raised her stake. Suddenly it's eyes were back on her. "You'll fall, Slayer... just like the ones before you."  
  
Spike's head lifted as the vampire talked. The stars were named… familiarity hit him like a ton of bricks and he felt his entire body tense. *God no... It couldn't be...*  
  
Buffy soon grew weary of the threats made on not only her life, but on Spike's. Plunged her stake downward and watched as the hulking form of her chosen enemy evaporated into dust beneath her. "Obviously not as powerful as you thought, dusty."  
  
She wiped her hands off in a rather self-satisfied manner before sheathing her weapon of choice in the waistband of her pants and turning around. Spike still lay unconscious on the floor. All angry thoughts directed at him from before vanished from her mind in a puff of vamp dust as she saw him lying sprawled out like that, and she ran to him. "Spike!" she cried, falling to her knees at his side. She turned him over in her arms, cradling his head. An angry red bruise shone like a beacon against his telltale shock of white hair. "Wake up, baby..." she knew inside he was all right but the fledgling had her worried. Just who was this powerful master?  
  
Spike pretended to wake from unconsciousness, as he so often saw those actors do on TV. He opened his eyes slowly, shock still registering in his body. He shivered in her arms and shook his head with a grunt. "Slayer?"  
  
"It's me, we were attacked..." she clutched him close still, and he was warmed at the thought that even after there'd been fighting, she loved him.   
  
He squirmed out of her grasp, sitting up, and hissed as a small bout of nausea engaged him. He rubbed irritably at the bump throbbing angrily on his head. "How many?"  
  
"Just one," she grinned sheepishly.  
  
"Bloody hell..." Spike snorted.  
  
"Spike..." she started. "The fledgling wouldn't say who his sire was, but he seemed pretty sure that's its the powerful type vamp. He said that the sire had a message for me..."  
  
Spike swallowed hard, pretending he had no clue what she was saying. Like he hadn't heard every word of that ominous, eerily familiar warning. "Oh?"  
  
"He said, when the stars are all named and the dead bird sings...that the master will come for us and we'll die." Buffy repeated what the dusty vamp had told her. "You think this sire is a raging psycho? Wait…dumb question."  
  
Spike chuckled on the outside in a manner which he hoped was convincing as genuine. On the inside he was ice cold with fear. "Someone's definitely off their rocker, pet," he responded. *Right up her ally.* "Dead birds can't sing..."  
  
"I betcha they can on the Hellmouth," she huffed. "Do you know what it means, Spike? Sound like anyone from your previous Big Bad days?"  
  
"No," he lied, eyes turned away from her. "No idea at all."  
  
"Well, guess this can only mean one thing," Buffy frowned.  
  
"What's that?" he could almost feel his heart pound anxiously, hoping she didn't see right through him.  
  
"Research..." she groaned, standing up and offering him a hand.  
  
"Oh.." He calmed inside, and was able to actually swallow to smooth out the roughness of his voice.. "Right then." He took her proffered hand and scrambled rather gracelessly to his feet, nearly tumbling back to the ground in his haste.  
  
"Whoa, wobbly knees," Buffy gripped him tightly. "Only 'm s'pposed to do that to you..." She grinned at him.  
  
"Buffy..." He searched her eyes with his own. He had to tell her, but...how?  
  
"Don't be mad, about before? Please? I'm sorry... We both know this is beyond better than a normal relationship and I shouldn't expect..."  
  
He cut her off with a searing, desperate kiss. Things just got a whole lot more complicated than debating on the merits of a normal relationship. The fight about something like that seemed so insignificant in his eyes right now. All he could think about was how he couldn't lose her; not now and not ever. Not if he still wanted to feel whole inside. But strangely, he couldn't tell her the truth either, and he knew it had the possibility to destroy them. It could wreck him beyond repair. He deepened the kiss, growling ferociously. But they had now, at the moment. He pulled her tightly against him, using his vampire strength to crush her body against his.  
  
She moaned loudly, from both the heat of his kiss and from the painful, possessive grip he had on her body. "I guess 'm forgiven..." she grunted out after pulling back for air.  
  
He softened his embrace, nuzzling her neck tragically. "Of course, Buffy." *Question is, will you ever be able to forgive me, luv?*  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
She smiled at him, running her fingers through his white blonde hair affectionately, loving how it curled of it's own volition when he neglected to gel it down. She planted a kiss on the top of his head and ran her other arm across his spine, through his black t-shirt in a series of feather light caresses. She closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of the length of his body stretched over hers as they lay on the couch together in a scene so oddly domestic that those that knew them would laugh if they ever were to stumble upon it.  
  
Spike's mind however, was far from where it should have been. Nothing was more wonderful than to hold her, and be with her like this, but his thoughts in a whirlwind of anguish decided to replay the scene from earlier. Could it really be that she was back? Why was she hiding like this? It was so unlike Dru to hide in shadows and make fledglings of scrap. Did she know about him and Buffy? Is that what she was after, destroying them? What would he do? He needed to protect his love from his sire; his dark queen. But how could he destroy Dru? He couldn't, and he wasn't sure he could let Buffy do it either. He hated this... It made him feel... guilty...wicked...evil...Was he really betraying Buffy? He liked to think he was keeping her safe, or was he really trying to protect Dru?   
  
He lifted his head, looking into her eyes.  
  
She smiled sweetly. "Spike..." she leaned up to kiss him, lips parted.  
  
He felt violently sick to his stomach with grief. He jumped up before he lost himself. "I've gotta go Buffy..."  
  
"What?" She frowned. "Why?" Her brow furrowed with concern as she watched him throw on his duster.  
  
"It's getting late," he straightened his collar.  
  
"But..." she was taken aback by his attitude. It seemed like he couldn't get out of the house fast enough "I...I thought it be nice if you stayed with me...here... on the couch," she blushed. "Like last time?"  
  
His insides broke at sound of her voice; so sweet, so warm, so gentle. He didn't deserve it, the ponce that he was. Frowning, he ran a hand through his hair. "I can't, luv,"  
  
She felt her heart crack at the look on his face. "Why?" She sat up.  
  
"Because I just said I can't," he sighed, his mind too wrapped around Drusilla and finding out what was going on to think up a logical excuse. He turned his gaze to her face, hoping the look in his eyes would help her trust him on this. However, one glance at the sadness in her eyes shining back at him and he groaned. Kneeling in front of her and taking her hands into his own, he kissed their backs tenderly. "Another night, pet..." If she'd still love him after this mess...  
  
"Right, okay.." she nodded, trying to hide the disappoint wallowing in her throat. "Will I see you tomorrow?"  
  
"Of course, pet. I can't stand to be without you, you know," he whispered gently as he laid a soft kiss on her cheek.  
  
She seemed stunned at the comment. He was being amazing, but so mysterious at the same time. She sighed, realizing that she was acting like a lovesick fool. Pushing men away was her specialty; yet she didn't think coming on too strong with Spike would push him away. Maybe it was.  
  
"I love you. Never forget that, Buffy." He kissed her lips, and their contact felt like a mere shadow. It left her wanting more. It felt haunted.   
  
"I love you too, Spike..." she replied breathily.  
  
He stood up, heading for the door.  
  
She followed after, lagging. "Wish you would stay..." she started, beginning to plead once more.  
  
He was already gone.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
Spike took off down the street quickly. He knew he shouldn't have left so abruptly, but Dru could be out there somewhere and he had to find out what she was up to. For Buffy's sake... right??  
  
At least that's how he felt deep down. He loved her with all he was, and all he wished he was. He had to be sure this was Dru. He also knew the Slayer would probably beat him to a bloody pulp if she found out he was keeping this from her, even if he argued it was to protect her. She hated to be protected, and frankly, she didn't need protection. So then, did he really want to protect Drusilla?   
  
Spike knew without a doubt in his mind the one he truly loved was Buffy. He never loved anyone the way he loved her. But, Dru... Dru was not only his sire, but his lover for over a century. You didn't just forget that... You didn't just go up to your sire, your lover, and stake them in the heart because it threatened the love of your life, and many other lifetimes. Did you?   
  
Spike growled with uncertainty and he patted his leather duster in search of salvation. It was times like these that gum didn't cut it. He fished out the remnants of an old pack of cigarettes. He lit it quickly, before his mind changed and inhaled deeply.  
  
God, he missed this. But kissing the Slayer more than made up for the loss of his smokes.   
  
He headed for the mansion, hoping to find Dru and drive her out of Sunnydale before something they all regretted happened. Part of him hoped this wasn't his dark queen and he could go back home to Buffy and make up his wanker-ish behavior to her all night.   
  
But there was another part of him that wondered what his Princess would say about his new relationship. She'd seemed to know, in her warped, psychic mind, that he loved the Slayer before he himself knew it. Course, he laughed taking a drag, he thought she was completely off her rocker then. Now, he knew she was right. Perhaps that's why she was back. Now that Buffy loved him in return, she wanted vengeance of some sort? The slayer that stole the vampire from his centennial lover, from the one that breathed death and blood into his veins and took him unto a world of darkness. Then again, Dru's messenger had said they'd both die. Could it be, that his Drusilla wanted him to be dusty? Her William? Dru may have been loopy, but she'd never been spiteful to him.   
  
Cor, she had to know that he wouldn't have staked her when he'd tied her and Buffy up. Well, if she did, perhaps he had to rethink staking her himself. If she did endanger Buffy's life... he couldn't even think about that, refused to at the moment. He wasn't sure he'd know what to do.  
  
"Bloody hell, Spike. Find out if it is Dru first, worry about the rest later. The rate you're going mate, you'll be no good for anything. You know you love Buffy. If Dru tried to hurt her, you'd run her through with the wood yourself and you bloody well know it, you soddin' ponce." he flicked his ashes. "Right?" He groaned. "Damn... I hate women..." he growled. "Great, you're a real nancy boy now, talkin' to yerself and shit..."  
  
Okay, so maybe he was a little scared, or nervous rather. Yeah. Nervous. Not scared. On one hand, he had to keep this hidden from Buffy. At least until he was sure it was Dru. If it was, he'd deal with it from there. He wasn't sure Buffy would understand the loyalty he had towards Dru. She'd probably consider it more a love thing than a loyalty thing, knowing how her mind worked. And on the other hand, he wanted to tell her, because he knew that she'd be brassed off if he kept it hidden. Not to mention, she might think he'd gone evil again....   
  
But... if he found Dru, got rid of her and neither of them were hurt, they'd all be better off. Well, he'd sleep better at night in any case.   
  
Tossing his butt into the street, he exhaled the last of the smoke and strode with purpose to the mansion.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
Well, that was just fanfuckingtastic. No trace of her anywhere. The old factory, the mansion, the usual vamp haunts, nothing. Not a goddamn fucking thing. It should have been a good thing, though, wasn't it? Perhaps this meant it wasn't Drusilla after all. Then again, maybe she'd just improved on her hide and seek game since he'd last seen her.   
  
Anger pounded in waves over his body. He hated it when he couldn't do something to control the situation. Though, maybe this just meant there was nothing to worry about, and it was just some wanker who thought himself/herself a master vampire and that he could tangle with the Big Bad and his Slayer.  
  
It was near dawn as he pounded down the streets of Sunnyhell at a quick pace, telling himself next time it might be smart to grab the bike or the Desoto when traveling so late.  
  
The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon and Spike thought it might be a sign from the PTBs. Or they were fucking with him again. Probably both.   
  
Buffy's house was closer than his crypt... and well, he felt like a wanker for walking out on her earlier that night. He'd make it up to her now, not to mention he'd save his hide from an unwanted, and doubtlessly painful suntan in the meantime. Thinking her, he realized he missed her terribly all of a sudden. The prospect of not seeing her made him feel as if he might go mad. He needed to feel her warm embrace and her soft lips. He needed to smell her scent that was sometimes vanilla and sometimes strawberries, and he wanted to taste her creamy skin, feel her heartbeat beneath his hand, sure and strong, and reassuring. He needed her to tell him she loved him, and that in it self gave them enough power to take on whatever the world was about to throw at them.  
  
It was scant minutes from sunrise when he realized he'd wandered a bit aimlessly, lost in daydreams of her. He cursed himself and took off at run for Revello Drive.  
  
"Of all the dumb luck," he growled, running up her steps, his duster beginning to smoke as the sun peeked over the horizon. He pounded on the door, hoping Dawn wouldn't be woken up by his careless slamming. "Slayer!!!"   
  
He hissed at the sun, as a stray ray flashed over his delicate skin. "Buffy!!!" he shouted, closing his eyes, calling her name out over and over.  
  
The door flung open quick and he was violently pulled inside and into the safety of the shadows.  
  
He collapsed onto the steps as the door shut quickly behind him.  
  
The hissing and popping of his skin diminished and he sighed in relief. "Thanks, luv."  
  
"Spike, Jesus Christ almighty, are you trying to kill yourself?!" Buffy hissed, at his side in an instant and looking over his slightly smoking skin. She was torn between smacking him for being such an idiot and cooing over her poor, burnt baby.   
  
"Kill myself? Not when I've got you to look forward to pet, no..." he patted the smoke off his duster. "Just felt like getting meself a nice ol' tan..."  
  
She smacked his arm. "What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
He chuckled, thinking how much she sounded like the old Buffy. The one who despised him. Now, there was only concern behind her harshness. "Missed you terribly, pet."  
  
She sighed, melting a little. "You coulda just stayed last night."  
  
"Hadda take care of a few things," he responded easily for her benefit, winking. "Found out after a bit that I couldn't stay away." He caressed her cheek softly. "Don't know why," he murmured, eyes locked on hers.   
  
She closed her eyes and leaned into the touch, small smile playing at the corner of her lips. "I'm glad you're back." When her eyes opened they were clouded with confusion. "Where'd you go?"  
  
"Nowhere special, luv...." he shook his head, standing. "Just a few loose ends tied up."  
  
She eyed him, unsure as whether or not to believe him. "So...." she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and drop it. "Guess you're stuck here until sunset..."  
  
"Yeah...'less you really do want me to improve my tan," he teased.  
  
She slipped her arms under his duster, encircling his waist. "I think you look fine just the way you are. Good enough to eat," she whispered conspirationally, pulling him close, eyes looking up into his as she brushed her lips softly against his cool ones. The way his eyes locked on her, their sparkling blue intensity, always made her lose control of herself. She moaned and leaned into the kiss, parting her lips slightly.  
  
Spike wasted no time taking her up on her invitation and he purred softly into her mouth, his tongue exploring the unique taste that was hers alone. He rested his forehead against hers, groaning in self-loathing. "Bloody hell, Slayer, you got me acting like some bloody house cat...purring whenever you touch me...." he whispered huskily, half in annoyance and half in wonder. "Do you have any idea what the hell you do to me?"  
  
She smiled with a kind of feminine satisfaction, reveling in the feel of the slightest contact with him. He growled low in his throat and the coquettish look she gave him, and with barely restrained lust, assaulted her mouth his, his tongue doing things to hers that made her lose her mind. "Mhhmm..." Her heart pounded heavily in her chest and she breathed deeply. The sounds he could make, that mischief in his eyes, always pushed her over the edge. It was so intoxicating; primal and full of promise. It made her feel powerful, in that she could do that to him, and she liked it. Though she supposed he had the power to make her do things she normally wouldn't. She knew he loved the way he could make her mewl like a newborn kitten, make her writhe and squirm under his touch. The power they had over each other was welcome, balancing, a heady combination of chemistry and passion.   
  
She tipped her head back, exposing her throat to his mouth, to be devoured or caressed, she didn't care. Her eyes closed tightly and she groaned intimately when his lips crashed upon the hollow of her throat, tracing a path along her jugular and up to her chin in a series of maddening nips and licks. She nearly cried aloud.   
  
"Spike..."  
  
He could hear her heart pounding and her blood pumping through her veins with such intensity, his head ached momentarily. "Slayer..." he growled, a bit ferocious. Before he knew it, his growls turned into purrs again, as her hands worked their way into his wild, platinum locks. He nibbled at her throat, reveling in the taste of her.   
  
She smiled; satisfied at the work his mouth was doing at her throat. His blunt human teeth were driving her insane. She trusted him completely so she dipped her throat back further, inviting more of his ministrations.  
  
His insides quivered with want and he knew if he didn't stop, he'd regret it. He couldn't believe how trustingly she presented her neck to him; just inviting him to it. He pulled away, eyes closed. He took a deep breath, trying to control himself. "Buffy..."  
  
"I trust you, Spike. I trust you with all my heart. Never forget that," she echoed his words from earlier, and tilted her head back up, eyes on him.  
  
He looked into hers, brushing back her wild hair in a gesture so tender that it seemed out of place amidst what they were doing to each other currently. They stood like that for a long time, lost in each other's eyes. His hand ran the length of her to the waist, gently, reverently. "I know you do, pet, I know. I just want to hold you right now, never stop touching you."   
  
She stifled a yawn, smiling, with a dreamy look in her eyes. "Sounds better than heaven..." she gripped his hand in hers, leading him to her room. "But promise to never let go?"  
  
"Swear it, baby." He followed up after her, his undead heart filled with warmth at her comment. Looking at her as she led him, he was convinced he was truly the luckiest bloke on the face of this earth, and all other dimensions alike.   
  
Her room was darkened perfectly, and he watched as she sunk into bed, waiting for him. He thought back briefly to the times where he stood outside her window, wanting so desperately to be in here with her, holding her, loving her. To think it was all his and only his now, was almost too good to be true.  
  
He let his duster fall to the floor with a whoosh, and tore off his blue button down and black t-shirt. All the time, his eyes on her, and she watched him in return. He kicked off his boots and unbuckled his belt. He slipped into the bed beside her and nearly died a second time. She slipped against his cold, muscled chest and snuggled against him, pressing kisses onto his skin in a manner that threatened to make him burn from the inside out.  
  
She pulled the blanket over them, resting her head in the crook of his neck and sighed happily. She noticed how perfectly the frame of her body fitted to his, one leg draped across his jean clad legs. Her arm was draped across his chest lovingly caressing his muscled abs, enjoying how they jumped and quivered under her touch.   
  
Spike was lost in the scent of her. Her golden hair was inches from his nose; her beautiful face buried against his neck. She was wrapped around him like they were long time lovers, slipping into their partners embrace, two pieces of a puzzle snapped together. He pulled her into him further, an arm wrapped around her soft frame possessively. She breathed softly, sending warm breaths across his bare chest, soon falling into a pattern that told him she was fast asleep.  
  
He snuggled into her, emitting one last satisfied purr, closing his eyes. This was what home felt like. This was the love he always wondered about. Nothing was more wonderful than holding her right now. When the time came that he could hold her warm flesh upon his cooler flesh, after making love to her, he would know what it was like to touch heaven's gates. He would know serenity. For now he would take this little piece of heaven, and treasure it with all his undead being.   
  



End file.
